Make Sure You Invest In The Right Bicycle!

Not so long ago, nobody would have named a product "Brooklyn".  It was the declasse downmarket cousin of Manhattan.  And, in certain circles, one could be judged (as I was) for having grown up in it.  When I moved to the borough as an adult, I lived in a neighborhood where nobody would admit to being from Brooklyn.  Instead, they told people they lived in Park Slope.  I'll admit, I fell into that guise a few times.

Now, of course, "Brooklyn" is cool. At least, if you moved there from someplace else.  Brooklyn's cachet isn't found in  just any of the borough's neighborhoods:  The one in which I grew up is not the hipster haven that Williamsburg--at least, a section of it--has become, and isn't a maze of young women in $200 yoga pants pushing $1500 strollers along bar- and restaurant-lined avenues, as "The Slope" has become.  When marketers and entrepreneurs name their products or emporia after Brooklyn, they're not thinking about East New York or Brownsville--or even, for that matter, the parts of Williamsburg south of the eponymous bridge and east of Union Avenue, where Hasidim and Hispanics, respectively, live.

Lately, it seems that "bicycle" is starting to gain status, however slowly, in much the same way Brooklyn is.  For as long as I can remember, the only non-bicycle related product named for the two-wheeler has been playing cards.  And they were so named in the days when a bike cost about as much as the average worker made in a year.  

Of course, you aren't going to find breakfast cereals or cosmetics named for anything velocipedic. At least, not now. That could change, however, very soon.  Slowly but surely, our two-wheeled obsession is gaining status--in one industry, anyway.

Interestingly, that area is biotechnology.  Perhaps it's not surprising when you realize that at scientists have likened the motion of at least one kind of molecule to the way pedals rotate around a bottom bracket.  

So now there is a company called Bicycle Therapeutics.  Now pharmaceutical giant Merck (funny, how much that looks like the name of the greatest racer of all time) has announced that it acquired a biotech startup that was ready to announce an Initial Public Offering.  

The name of that company is Peloton Therapeutics.

Nicholas Janski of Barron's wondered whether would-be investors might mistake the biotech company--which actually is applying some of the recently-discovered knowledge about the "bicycle" molecules I've mentioned--for Peloton Interactive, the maker of at-home "spin" bikes.  He cited similar confusion last month, when investors piled money into Zoom Technologies, causing the price of its stock to more than double, after Zoom Video Communications, an entirely unrelated company, announced its IPO.

(Me, when I hear "Zoom," I think of handlebars, stems, seatposts and other bike parts, mainly for mountain bikes!) 

Hmm...I wonder whether Eddie bought stock in any of those companies.  Does he think "Brooklyn" is cool?

200 Years Of Bicycling In New York

It looks like I'll be taking a trip to the Museum of the City New York soon.

If you read this blog regularly, you know I'm not the sort of person who has to be dragged into a museum.  But even if you are that sort of person, and you happen to be in New York, you might want to take a trip to the MCNY.

Bicyclists in Central Park in 1941

There, "Cycling in the City:  A 200-Year History" will include photographs and other objects intended to "trace the bike's transformation of urban transportation and leisure" and reveal "the complex, creative and often contentious (No, really?--ed.) relationship between New York and the bicycle."  This exhibition has been organized by Evan Friss, the author of On Bicycles:  A 200-Year History of Cycling in New York City and Donald Albrecht, one of the museum's curators.  

At least one of the topics covered by the exhibit is something I've discussed in at least a few of my posts:  the bicycle's role in liberating women.  The way we dress today owes everything to the shorter and split skirts, and "bloomers" developed for female riders, as well as those female riders tossing off their hoopskirts, petticoats and whalebone corsets. 

This photograph, taken by renowned photographer Alice Austen, shows her friend Violet Ward on the right with Daisy Elliott.  Ms. Ward, who lived on Staten Island, started one of the first bike clubs for women and wrote Bicycling for Ladies, a 200-page book advising women on how to become serious cyclists.

Another interesting topic the exhibit highlights is the ways in which bicycles and bicycling helped different ethnic and racial groups, some of whom had only recently arrived in the city, to assert their American identity as well as to promote solidarity.  German, Italian, Japanese, Chinese, Mexican and Mongolian created their own riding groups.  So did Caribbean immigrants, as well as African-Americans, most of whom came from the South.  Black cyclists started the Alpha Wheelmen to challenge the notion that cycling was only for privileged white men (We sure can use that now!) and a certain black man rode with the South Brooklyn Wheelmen into worldwide fame as the second black athlete to win a title in any sport. (Canadian boxer George Dixon was the first.)  He was none other than Marshall, a.k.a. Major, Taylor.

A bicycle club member in the Bronx, 2007. Photo Carlos Alvarez Montero

Now, being a white cyclist, I'm not aware of current New York City-based bike clubs organized around the ethnic or racial identities, though their existence wouldn't surprise me:  I often see groups of black or Latino men (and, less frequently, women) riding together, sometimes dressed in the same colors. They might be actual clubs, or less formal organizations. And there is at least one women's cycling group that I know about:  WE Bicycle.

Steve Athineos, center, leads NYC bike messengers in protest against midtown bike lane closure, 1987

And, about the "contentious" part of the museum's introduction:  The exhibit shows that conflict between cyclists and the police or segments of the public are not new.  One reason why we had to fight to get Prospect and Central Parks closed to traffic is that bicycles had actually been banned from those parks, and others, during the first "bike boom" because of confrontations between cyclists and pedestrians as well as horseback riders.  Now, how anyone thought that vehicular traffic was less of a hazard than bicycles is beyond me.  Then again, I don't claim to have one of the great minds of this, or any other, era.

OK, I'll turn off the sarcasm meter and repeat that I intend to see the exhibit. 

Spoke'n Words And Unchained Melodies

Can musicians make music without a musical instruments?

One of the oldest American musical traditions involves musicians doing exactly that.  Now, some might not say it's strictly a musical tradition, but it certainly involves music--and dance and other kinds of performance.  

It originated in Charleston, South Carolina. Actually, Kongo slaves brought a dance called the Juba from their native land.  The Juba involves stomping as well as patting and drumming the arms, legs, chest and other parts of the body.  Later, lyrics were added to it.

If any of this sounds familiar, you've seen what's commonly called the "Hambone."  Slaves weren't allowed to have rhythm instruments because masters believed secret codes were embedded in the drumming.  So, the "Hambone" and related music and dances became one of the primary means of expression for slaves--and for African Americans after the so-called Emancipation.

I like to think of Juba or Hambone as a precursor to hip-hop.

Anyway, it seems that the idea of making music without instruments--or, at least, what most people would think of as instruments--hasn't died. And, as with the slaves, one particular contemporary performer felt the need to make music without guitars, keyboards, saxophones or the like.

Percussionist Reynaliz Herrera probably isn't the first musician to ride a bicycle to street performances.  She, however, grew frustrated with the limits to what she could carry on two wheels.  So, the Braintree (Don't you just love that name?), Massachusetts wondered, "What if I drum on my bike?"  

If you know anything about her musicianship, the question doesn't sound so far-fetched.  Ever since she came from her native Mexico to study music in Canada and, later, Boston, she has wanted to go beyond traditional theories of classical music, she says.  

 

While she cites Afro-Cuban, Brazilian and classical music as her main influences, she says that playing on a bicycle is a return to her own roots.  As a child, she experimented by banging on pots and pans, and created a band with buckets of water in her yard.  That led her to the realization that "everything can create a sound" and that her job is to find out "the qualities of sounds and which sound good together."

What's interesting is how the bicycle is composed of parts that create a range of tones, from high to low, that resemble the parts of a drum ensemble.  For example, she explains, the chainwheel can sound like a bell or snare drum, the freewheel like a high hat and the tire like a kick drum.  Technically, playing a bicycle, she says, is most like playing a xylophone because both require a musician to strike closely-spaced parts spread over a wide area.

Little Ricky Wasn't Afraid Of Me

No matter how well you know your route, you never really know whom or  what you'll encounter along the way.

During yesterday's commute, I encountered this:

"Ricky" (It sounds more gender-neutral than "Rocky") crossed my path, literally, under the Hell Gate trestle. If you've taken an Amtrak train between New York and Boston, you've ridden on that trestle.  The path leads to the Randall's Island Connector, which I take to the Bronx.

Since that path bisects fields and the connector crosses over the Bronx Kill, which connects the Harlem River with the East River, near the point where it meets Long Island Sound, it's not unusual to see animals, including the Randall's Island Salamander.  

What surprised me, though, is that when I stopped, little Ricky approached me.  Usually, when I see a raccoon, they dart away.  Perhaps nobody had taught Ricky to be afraid of humans--or to defend territory against them.

It took me too long to get my phone out of my bag, so I only captured an image of Ricky in retreat.  He/she was sooo cute (OK, how many baby animals aren't?) but I knew enough not to pick him/her up.  As the Parks Department reminds us, they're never too small to have rabies.

But, really, how can you associate someone so little and cute with something so terrible?  If I ever see little Ricky again, though, he won't be so little--and probably will've learned to be afraid.

Take A Bike Ride And Call Me In The Morning

Lately, there's been a burst of interest in "social prescribing", particularly in the UK.  In fact, the UK plans to implement it nationwide, as part of a strategy to combat loneliness, by 2023.

"Social prescibing" is a loose term of practices that draw upon therapeutic art-, hobby- or exercise-based programs to help patients with a range of issues ranging from dementia to lung conditions.  The idea behind it is that for many patients, particularly the elderly, their physical ailments are exacerbated (if not initiated) by their isolation.  Not surprisingly, depression and anxiety plague many who have outlived friends, family members, colleagues and neighbors and create a vicious cycle in which emotional conditions worsen physical ones--which, of course, make the people who suffer those conditions even more unhappy, and sicker.

As part of "social prescribing", general practitioners and, in some cases, other health care providers can prescribe any number of activities, including museum visits, cooking classes or walking tours for patients. These activities are not meant to replace medical or surgical treatments, though they may well reduce, or even eliminate, the need for medications to treat emotional and other conditions.

Those activities could include bike rides.

The Welsh National Health Service has just announced that doctors at two Cardiff medical centers can now prescribe free six-month prescriptions to a bicycle-rental service.  The intent of the pilot program is to not only improve cardiovascular health, but also to support overall mental well-being.  If successful, the program could be expanded to include other health care professionals in the city, and perhaps even the country.

Under the plan, patients will be given a code that will provide them access to an unlimited number of free 30-minute riding sessions.  These sessions, which will be made available by European bike-share company Nextbike, can cost 10 pounds sterling (about $13 at current exchange rates) per day.  

The announcement of this plan, the first of its kind in the UK, closely follows an NHS report detailing a 15 percent increase in obesity-related hospital admissions in the UK.  That is not surprising when you consider that five years ago, the city of Boston started a "Prescribe-a-Bike" program for low-income patients, in part to combat the obesity that disproportionately affects the poor.  It has since morphed into a discounted BLUEbikes membership program for people who receive government benefits.

Who Is Your Tandem Partner?

The next time you feel your boss is riding you, think about this:

via GIPHY


What are friends for?

via GIPHY

Where It's Really Hard To Get Out Of The Way

I've ridden the block dozens of times.  And walked it at least as often.

It's less than a kilometer from where I grew up.  Relatives, friends and classmates lived along the streets that crossed it.

Unfortunately, for a 16-year-old boy, it's where his life ended. 


Yisroel Schwartz was riding north on 17th Avenue, a narrow thoroughfare that runs through the heart of Borough Park, a neighborhood that is no as riding north on 17th Avenue, a narrow thoroughfare that runs through the heart of Borough Park, a neighborhood that is now home to one of the world's largest yet most cohesive Hasidic Jewish communities.

Although it's called an "avenue," it's narrower than most streets or roads in other American cities.  And because the Hasidim, who have large families, are among the most car-reliant people in New York City, the avenue is often crowded--even when drivers aren't pulled over to pick up or discharge family members, or simply double-parked. 

Those conditions, unfortunately, make getting "doored" a particular hazard.  That was the last lesson Yisroel Schwartz learned in his brief life.



He saw the door opening and swerved.  But he couldn't avoid it, striking the door and falling to the pavement.

But it gets worse:  While prone, he was struck by an Econoline E350 van that was heading in the same direction.  He suffered severe trauma to his head and body, and was pronounced dead soon after arriving at Maimonides Medical Center, about halfway between that block and my old house.

Both drivers--of he car whose door he struck and the van that struck him--remained at the scene of the accident.  The NYPD are investigating. Knowing that stretch of 17th Avenue--which I probably wouldn't ride if I weren't so familiar with it--I am actually inclined to give the van driver at least,  the benefit of the doubt.  No matter your cycling or driving skills, it's really hard to get out of the way on that stretch of the Avenue, between 53rd and 52nd Streets.

If He Flies, It Won't Be A High For Him

When I first became a dedicated cyclist, in the mid-1970s, I eagerly awaited my monthly copy of Bicycling! magazine.  Among the reviews and ads for bikes and equipment I couldn't afford, there was John Rakowski's serialized account of his ride around the world.

To this day, it's one of the most impressive feats I've ever read or heard about. Riding a bicycle around the world!    Over three years, he pedaled through every continent except Antarctica.  

It's such an impressive feat that I simply could not, imagine doing it more than once--until yesterday.  While surfing the web over supper (not a "best practice," I know!) I came across a story about Armando Basile, who hails from Germany.  

He's completed six velocipedic circumnavigations of the globe.  Yes, six.  And he was on his seventh such sojourn (Yes, I plagiarized the Moody Blues!) in Crescent City, California, the other day when the only thing that could have stopped him happened.

Surveillance video reportedly shows suspect with Basile's bike.

His Tout Terrain bicycle was stolen.  He called the Crescent City Police Department to say that his mount was taken at the Chevron South on Highway 101 at Elk Valley Road.

"The way it looks, the tour is finished," Basile posted to his Facebook page.  That is, unless someone calls 707-464-2133 with information that could lead to the wheels' whereabouts.

Otherwise, he'll be going from San Francisco to Frankfurt tomorrow--on a plane.  I don't think the best in-flight amenities could make him feel good under such circumstances!

  

Who Needs A Wall? A Fence Will Do The Job.

In other posts, I've pointed out that bike lanes and other bicycle-related infrastructure are not always received warmly by low-income or working-class people, or by people of color.

Bike lanes are often seen as paths to gentrification.  While the income level and hue of a neighborhood may well change after one of those green ribbons winds down a street, we cannot, as at least one of your teachers has said, confuse coincidence with causation. (The same association is often made between art and the ways neighborhoods change:  More than one commentator has referred to artists as the canaries in the coal mine.)  Still, I can understand why someone who's just getting by would feel resentment when he or she sees a cyclist who seems to be having fun--even if said cyclist is riding to work.

Also, that cyclist is, as likely as not, to be white.  Or, if he or she is not, he or she is, as often as not, an educated professional, and young.  That last fact is even more important than one might realize:  Gentrification often pushes out people who have been living in a neighborhood for decades--in some cases, their entire lives--and really have nowhere else to go.  

One more thing:  Nearly all planners and designers involved in building bike infrastructure are like the folks spinning down those lanes:  white, with at least one university degree and from at least the middle class, if not a higher rung on the socio-economic ladder.  Urban and transportation planning, it seems, are a bit like architecture:  a difficult profession to enter if you're not already connected, in some way, to the people who are already in it.  And, of course, it takes financial and other resources to, not only get the education required for such work, but to endure long periods at jobs that don't pay well.  That is why, for example, most of the students in the college in which I teach are preparing to become nurses, dental hygenists and the like, if they're not studying business. 

But today, in taking a slightly different route to work, I found yet another reason why poor, working-class and nonwhite people might fear and hate the arrival of a bike lane in their neighborhood.

As you might have guessed, those tall brick buildings to the left of the bike lane are projects (or what the British call "council flats").  Guess who lives in them?  

If you were one of them, how welcome would you feel on that bike lane?

Oh, and that ferry:  It's nice.  But, even with the location of that dock, one sees hardly a dark face on board.  

By the way, just beyond the end of the lane, a new development is going up. If nothing else, it just might make the bike lane seem welcoming, by comparison anyway, to the folks in the projects. 

Citizens and Business Owners

A motorist once accused me and other cyclists of using "for free" the things he and other non-cyclists pay for.  I pointed out that he pays only one tax that I don't pay:  for gasoline.  Roads and other infrastructure are not, as he and others believe, wholly funded by that levy on fuel.  In fact, in most US states--including New York--most of the money for roads comes from general taxes, whether at the local, state or federal level.

In essence, I was telling that driver that I am as much of a citizen as he is, and that cyclists pay their share as much as anybody does.  If anything, we are taxed more heavily because motorists can often deduct the expenses of owning and operating their vehicles.

Now, if cyclists are citizens, just as motorists are, what does that make bicycle shop owners?

Business owners.  Mostly, small business owners.

That is the point made by several bike emporium proprietors in a letter to Washington, DC Mayor Muriel Bowser.  In it, they point out that their interest in Vision Zero--which, they believe, Bowser's administration has been slow to implement--is for the benefit not only of their customers, but also the community as a whole.  They say a few things about themselves that, really, any conscientious small business owner could say:

Bikeshops are active in their communities. Although we compete for the same customers, we share the same goal: put more people on bikes. More people on bikes helps all of us as business owners and the city where our shops are located.

We provide emergency repairs and some of us provide free tool use to get our customers and neighbors moving again.

We donate to local charities.

We create jobs and train young people that have just started working.

We create positive activity in retail corridors.

We create sales tax revenue for the District.

In other words, they're saying that they are serving, not only cyclists, but the Washington DC community as a whole.  That also reinforces the argument I made with the motorist I mentioned at the beginning of this post:  Cyclists are part of the community, too:  We come from "every Ward and all walks of life," in the words of the letter.  We hold the same kinds of jobs, have the same kinds of families, live in the same kinds of places and have all of the same needs as other members of the community.  One of those needs is safety, and the one major difference between us and motorists, or other citizens is--as the writers of the letter point out--we are more vulnerable on the roads.

Oh, and we are customers, not only of bike shops, but the other businesses in their vicinity:  greenmarkets, book sellers, hardware stores, haircutters and beauticians, clothing boutiques, coffee shops, supermarkets and eateries of any and all kinds.  If I owned any of those businesses, I would want my customers to remain safe--and alive.