An Oxymoron Ride

Peter White is an original.   He has been helpful when I've  consulted him, whether or not I bought anything.  His sense of humor, though, is, shall we say, quirky.  I like it, but it may not be for everybody.

An example is his attitude about downhill riders.  His shop doesn't carry parts for bikes ridden by "those poor unfortunate people with green or pink hair who have to be carried up the mountain on a ski lift so they can ride down yelling "Yo Dude!" He calls their machines "invalid bikes" which, he claims, is a play on what he regards as "valid" bikes.  Naturally, some  folks believe he's denigrating folks with disabilities and send him nasty e-mails, or worse.

I'd love to hear what he'd say about a "downhill bike tour."  I never knew such things exist until someone sent me an article about people who want to regulate them in Hawaii. Apparently, tour groups meet their guide and support vehicle at the top of a mountain, where they watch the sunrise before barreling down into the town.  

Photo by Matthew Thayer, for the Maui News

Me, I don't know how you can call something a "bike tour" if it's only downhill.  I can understand a ride that's flat.  But whatever anyone wants to say about the speed at which I currently ride, I can say that on every tour--or even every transportation ride--I've taken, if I've ridden down something, I've ridden up it, or something else.  Well, OK, once I went on a downhill mountain bike ride back in the 90s when that first became a "thing."  Yes, I went up on a lift, as everyone else in my group did.  But I did it on a hardtail bike, albeit with a Rock Shox front fork.

Now some folks in Maui want to impose tighter regulations on those downhill tours.  They complain that even the guided tours show little regard for the safety of children and pedestrians.  Not surprisingly, they believe the "wildcat" riders are even worse.

Not only have I never taken a "downhill tour;" I've also never been to Hawaii.  So I have to take their word about those tours. I, though, would want to regulate them in another way:  They shouldn't be allowed to call themselves "tours."  I'd bet that at least half of the people on those rides don't pedal even a single stroke.  To me, if all you do is coast down a hill--as much fun as it is--you don't have the right to say you did a "tour."

In other words, I believe the phrase "downhill tour" is an oxymoron.

If A Police Officer Rolls A Bike Over Your Head....

If someone rolls a bicycle over someone else's head, could that be construed as excessive use of force?

Hmm...I must admit I'd never pondered that question.  Most likely, there aren't very many people who have. One who had to is Andrew Myerberg.

He is the director of Seattle's Office of Police Accountability (OPA).  The poor fellow who got tire tracks on his forehead was Camillo Massagli, who was known for showing up at street protests and playing his trumpet.  At one of those events last year, held in the wake of a grand jury's decision not to indict Louisville police officers in the killing of Breonna Taylor, Seattle PD Officer Eric D. Walter rolled his Department-issued bike--with two flat tires--over a supine Massagli's head.

Massagli, for his part, declined to pursue charges because, he explained, "I cannot use a penal system I reject for revenge, not in good conscience," though he added that Walter's and other officers' actions showed "disregard for human life."

King County Sheriff's Detective Mike Mellis investigated Walter for assault but did not find probable cause.  He reasoned that Walter and other officers had a right to "peacefully" remove protesters from the street.  Although he conceded that Walter "purposely rolled his bike over" Massagli's head, as recounted in an OPA summary, he said that such an action "would not necessarily be expected to cause someone pain."

Okay...I'll try that if I ever roll a bicycle over someone's head:  "Officer, I really meant no harm!"

At least Mellis, Walter and the officers who worked with him weren't the only ones who had input on the OPA summary.  It didn't dispute Walter's claim that that he "needed to stay on his line and could not move as it might confuse the officers following behind him."  It, however, averred that a review of video from that day found "no indication that he ever lifted the bicycle while walking over" Massagli.  

So what was the result of this investigation?  Walter got a seven-day unpaid suspension. (It's unclear as to whether or not he's served it.) Walter and the union are, of course, appealing it.  As a 14-year veteran of the force, Walter had a base salary of $130,471 in 2020 and made another $20,544. (I wonder whether working that protest was part of his regular salary or overtime.)  So the suspension, should or has he served it, would cost him about $2509 of his base pay. One wonders whether Massagli will pay in some other way--whether through physical pain or emotional trauma, now or in the future, whether or not Officer Walter meant to hurt him.

Screen grab from a video at the protest. (Courtesy of C.J Halliburton and Joey Weiser, for the Seattle Times.

More Bikes, More Parts, More Help Needed

 The COVID-19 pandemic has affected the cycling world in all sorts of ways.  You've probably noticed more people on bikes during the past year and a half.  And, if you wanted to buy or fix a bike, you probably found it more difficult, or even impossible, to find the bikes, parts or accessories you need--and that, if you can find them, they're more expensive.

That last factor--scarcity and expense--has been particularly difficult for programs that distribute bikes during the holidays.  Some, such as the Boise Bicycle Project, have, in years past, relied on bikes refurbished in local jails and prisons.  Those programs, which typically trained volunteer detainees, have been suspended or stopped altogether due to distancing requirements.  Also, the businesses--whether bike shops or big-box stores like Wal-Mart--that donated bikes or sold them at significant discounts (sometimes at wholesale prices or not much more) just don't have bikes or even helmets or other accessories to donate.  And, individuals who donate bikes often do so after buying new bikes for themselves or their kids:  the old bike is the one that gets donated.

That last fact relates to another of the problems I mentioned.  Donated bikes are usually fixed by volunteers in the distribution programs before being passed on to a needy kid or adult.   Just as the Idaho prison program mentioned in the article has been put on hold, so have other programs in which volunteers refurbish bikes, such as those in Recycle-a-Bicycle type operations, local bike clubs, schools or other organizations.  It's pretty hard to show someone how to true wheels or replace brake cables while maintaining social distance.

And, while some volunteers in distribution programs have the skills and tools to fix the bikes, they may not have the necessary parts, or any way of getting them.

So, the program in the article--and, I am sure, others--are urging people not only to donate bikes, but also to fix them, if necessary, before giving them.

If you donate or fix bikes in a program like BBP, you deserve special kudos this year.  And, whether or not we receive one of those bikes, we should be grateful for the extra effort they're surely expending this year!