... keeping it real Thursdays

I was dismayed to read that a new ghost bike has been chained to a signpost at Fulton and Washington where Julian Miller was fatally struck by a motorcyclist on September 18.


I really don't feel like getting into a road rules debate right now, but this article about what supposedly lead to her and the motorcyclist's death kind of got under my skin...

The article even relates one person's corroboration of reports of two guys on crotch-rockets racing up and down Greene Ave before the incident. I've got nothing wrong with clubs, or even gangs, that center around a particular vehicle, hobby, or sport; but I'm pretty sure everyone in Brooklyn is intimately familiar with the growing popularity of driving a motorcycle like a goddamn maniac in the middle of the night. So why aren't we doing something about the ones who are flagrantly disobeying both common sense and local law; and instead pleading with cyclists to be more "defensive," "watchful," and "vigilant" of them?

Since when is it the duty of the law-abiding citizen to accommodate the transgressions of the law-breaking citizen? All this mentality does for us is perpetuate this disgusting culture of fear we've submitted to both consciously and unconsciously.

Though after reading the "account" of what transpired, it seems that Ms. Miller was salmoning up Greene or riding off the sidewalk between cars in the dark of night.

If you'll recall, I recently be-frogged my bike in a clever lightway that helps me and my penchant for dark clothing stay visible when riding after hours, and as a result I've become keenly aware of many bikes' extreme lack of illumination. I don't want to encourage people to bedazzle their bikes with those stupid peel-n-stick neon green reflectors, but some lights or reflectors are always a good thing (bear in mind, if you have lights theres really no point in having reflectors too, since the light should outshine the light bouncing off the reflector; if it doesn't, you need new batteries for your lights).


I've also started riding around Prospect Park on Tuesday and Thursday evenings since I'm somewhat unhappy with the speed my fitness allows me to ride at. In doing so I notice an irritatingly common problem with bicycle traffic at this time of day: people salmoning, lightless, through the pitch-dark park to (I assume) save a few seconds on their evening commute.


But recently I haven't been vocalizing my disdain for bike salmon, and instead have adopted a live-and-let-live policy, only saying something when they directly affect my safety or path of travel. I figure nobody wants to get lectured at anyway, and hopefully one day they'll realize that riding with traffic is far less scary than the opposite by their own volition.

Then again, the Police certainly aren't helping the situation (that is assuming they lead by example, which we all know, they don't), as evidenced by this occurence I was fortunate enough to capture this morning as I walked my bike to the service entrance of my office building:


Yes, thoust eyes dostn't decieve thee; that is indeed a Cop-salmon. I thought i was going to catch him sidewalk-salmoning, but right as I managed to free my camera from my bag, he rode into the new protected bike lane on Broadway... Oh well, this just as bad if not worse in my opinion.

Not to leave you with a sour taste for cycling, I was heartened to see that the Bergen St. 2,3 station in Brooklyn now boasts bike racks for commuters to use.


I only wish we could see this at every train station instead of having people to resort to vertical locking jobs on scarce bike racks, fences and signposts... But it's nice to see people are at least riding part of the way to work...

...the weekend madness (installment 10)

Last week I decided that this weekend past I would go out and do something interesting or exciting for a change, so I decided to wake up at 5:30 am Saturday and join the Escape New York ride presented by NYCC.


The ride set out from Sakura Park on 122nd St and Riverside Dr. at seven in the morning, so I had to ride up there from Brooklyn starting at 6:00am. I stress the extreme earliness if the ride because I'm not what one would call a "morning person" and not having registered for the ride beforehand, I was pleased with myself for not making an excuse not to go and rolling over back into sweet cozy slumber.

I arrived at the staging area exactly when I had planned and after forking over $50 to take part, I downed a few cups of coffee and some pastry before loading my pockets with Boudreaux's Butt Paste, super foods, half a banana, and chocolates.


After a getting a cue sheet (map and list of turns in sequential order) and stretching a bit, we were off!


Once in NJ, the pace quickened by a considerable amount and the cyclists began grouping into pacelines... I joined this one as It overtook me in part because they seemed to be riding efficiently, but also because of this orangey jersey that said "Formaggio" on the front and back. Being a big fan of cheeses, I decided this was the paceline for me and grabbed this guy wheel as they passed.

The route took us winding through upscale new jersey suburbs where the road quality rapidly changed from 'newly paved' to 'riddled with pot-holes' and back, lending an epic quality to the ride, fit for grey-scaling in the Rapha-way. Before getting to the first rest stop, my average speed was a whopping 26 mph... gotta love the drafting.


I didn't spend much time at this stop, only enough to relieve my bladder, fill water bottles, and take in a pb&j or three. Then we began to really get into hilly sections and the larger groups broke into smaller grupettos, selecting against weaker climbers. This group of three formed when the guy in second position and I caught up to the guy in blue and the guy in rear.


We traded turns pulling at the front but eventually the riders we caught up to wore out on a particularly steep section of residential road and from there on it was me and this guy:



After stopping for a terrestrial goose paceline (pictured above), I eventually got dropped by him and gathering what was left of my shattered ego, I huffed on alone for most of the rest of the way (sound familiar?). Heres a close up of the geese "threading the needle", as they say in cycling parlance:


I encountered some pretty dramatic climbs (one of which is a fabled climb of 8% average with the last section at some 19% grade) and also some killer descents, my max speed here was 39.9mph (note: photo below is a dramatization of that experience, I'm not dumb enough to try and go that fast one-handed)


Eventually I reached the halfway point (judging by the cateye) and turned south along the Hudson, just short of Bear Mountain.


I liked this ride specifically because though it took us through a veritable cycling mecca, we rode routes entirely foreign to me, leading me to feel lost much of the time, which strangely, I enjoyed. What I didn't enjoy however, was the unseasonably chilly weather; I assumed I'd tough it out until we got riding and my internal temperature would elevate to a comfortable level, but I didn't think it would be quite as cold as it was.


by the time I reached the last rest stop in Piermont, I was none too pleased with my lack of weather appropriate attire, quite unlike this 'double century couple' I saw (behind the normal people, standing at the counter); both wearing the kind of skinsuits that help perpetuate the negative stereotype of horribly dressed cyclists.

Conversely there were a surprising number of guys completely decked out in Rapha gear, which of course in turn made me green with envy at their 'epic style' and 'timeless cycling traditions.'

Any way, I got the requisite shot of manhattan coming back over the GWB,


And hurriedly made my way back to the start so i could get the hell home and warm up. Once i got into the city, however, I was surprised to find it a good five to ten degrees warmer than out in the boonies. I was also surprised to find mega-size heros and napkins;


Though realized that the only variety of heros available were meat, cheese, or vegan. I covertly aprehended one of each (not the vegan though, blech!) and proceeded to mix their ingredients by hand. Satisfied with my sandwich renovation, I turned around and witnessed incontrovertible evidence that the universe was likewise in favor of further meat-cheese collaborations:


I agree universe, I like cheese too.

At this point I knew it was safe to head home after watching a few gripping rounds of flat fixing contest.


Which, I have to point, out seemed obscenely wasteful of tubes, not to ruin the outro here...