It was a Dark and Stormy ... Beach Day?

Did the first ride of the season out to Coney Island.

I love this ride. There is something magical about being able to get on a bicycle in New York City, ride for a while, and end up at the Atlantic Ocean.

The sights and smells of a carnival mingle with the breeze blowing in off the sea. Hot Dogs, Beer, Suntan Oil... But there was none of that today. Today was quiet, misty and mysterious. A day where you look out to the ocean and imagine all the people and places on the other side of the fog.

Somedays, I love riding in NYC.

Spring is Here and it's Totally Craptastic

Beautiful, beautiful day.
Some of you may remember the issue with my new job - no bikes allowed in the building.
(See my post "Well That Sucks")
Well, I finally managed to get off my butt, collect about 40 pounds of locks, put air in the tires of my commuter bike, and get moving.
And I can honestly say, I've never seen a worse route in my life.
I now work in midtown, and there is really no way to get there that isn't fantabulously craptastic.
I mean, it's horrible.
Forget about the fear and agita of having to chain my bike up to the scaffolding outside the building. Forget about carrying four different locks that, I kid you not, weigh more than my steel frame road bike. No matter which side of Manhattan I come up, I've got to cross the worst, exhaust filled, speeding bus, potholed, crazy tourist filled streets I've ever seen - and I LIKE biking in NYC.
And the comments. My God.
Allow me to digress for more than a moment.
I love spring in NYC. Some of the most pleasurable weather is in spring and fall. The air is warm, but crisp and clear feeling. The light is beautiful, and everyone is happy. People start stripping off clothing left and right, which isn't always a good idea, but is, at times breathtaking. (There are a lot of very beautiful people here, and there is nothing like that first spring day when they start soaking up the sun and showing off the skin.)
For some reason, most bicyclists do not fall into this category of super-hotness. Could be how many fat asses there are out there. Could be that even if they aren't fat they jam those selfsame asses into unspeakable lycra outfits that you wouldn't make a beer cosy out of.
Ow! My eyes! I've gone blind!
Digression number two:
The other day, someone I haven't spoken with in many, many years found me via the internet. I was telling a friend about our little email exchange, and he said to me, 'Oh, he's just trying to date you.' - Like that's a bad thing. I don't think he meant it like that, but maybe he did. What, I can't go on a date? The guy was totally friendly, polite and nice.
Which brings me to my final craptacular point.
By what right do you - and you know who you are - get to say shit like that to me? Because I'm female and I'm on a bike? I am not wearing Lycra (and even if I was what business is it of yours) I am not shoving my body parts at you, I'm not even showing any skin between my bike gloves, my long sleeve shirt and my jeans.
To the nice guy in the van in Williamsburg who wished me a good day... 'Thank You' - was he trying to date me? I don't know. But he was polite and friendly and he made my day better.
To the (numerous) schmucks in Manhattan near the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel... 'Fuck You' and I hope someone says that to your Mother, your Sister, or your Daughter - then come talk to me.
Sometimes I think the world just wants me to be a hater - and I don't want to be a hater.

Back In the Saddle - With No Batteries

Today was the first beautiful day that I was free to ride - and it was glorious.
I pumped up my tires, lubed my chain, and set out across the Manhattan Bridge.
I left some basic tools down in Miami with my other bike, so I needed to replace those. Also, I was determined to solve one of the problems that dogged me all through last summer - my misfitting helmet.

I don't like things on me when I ride for fun. No backpacks, camelbacks, fanny packs, messenger bags, hydration belts, lycra, or compression shorts... I don't even wear a watch. What I do wear is a helmet, because honestly, if you ride anywhere in NYC you have to be a total moron not to wear a helmet. Personally, when I see a helmetless rider go by, I give them a Darwin Award for improving the odds that they remove themselves from the gene pool.

Given how I dress when I ride it's no surprise that when I bought a helmet last year, I bought one that was way too big. I thought it was great. No binding, no pinching. I perched it on my head, clipped the chinstrap, and off I went.
This was fine on the commuter bike, but when I got the Centurion it all changed. Leaning over drop handlebars for the first time, my helmet dipping over my eyes, I realized I had a problem - that I didn't fix for an entire year.

Hello new Trek 'Vapor' helmet, and thank you yet again to the nice guys at Metro Bikes on Hudson.

Did you know that a properly fitted bike helmet should stay on your head if you tip forward without the chinstrap closed? And I don't mean with your ponytail shoved through the back. You need to take some time fitting these, and the guys at Metro Bikes are wonderfully patient.

The fit between a Giro, a Bell, and a Trek are significantly different, so don't just get one that looks cool. It seems like a no-brainer, but most of us are riding around in helmets that won't do crap to stop our brains from splattering when we flip over that cab - because they don't fit.
Here's a link to a little checklist to make sure your helmet fits correctly.

Got my gear, hopped on my honey and headed out over the Williamsburg Bridge to go meet up with a friend. Whipped out my trusty camera to take a shot of the spectacular view - cloudless spring skies over Manhattan, and discovered...
NO BATT.

NO BATT = NO PIX.

Sorry.

British Bicycle Advocacy

As seen in...Brooklyn Heights

And you thought parking was bad in your neighborhood...

The Bicycles of Winter

Oh, the lonely cycles of winter. Left outside awaiting better days.
For some, that day will never come.
The Fall saw them stripped of useful parts, and undisturbed through the Winter snows, they are left to rust in the cool Spring rains.

Not so for others whose hard existence beats down upon them day after snowy day.



These "iron horses" work until they drop, and like the sign on the big building says,

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."

Summer, please come back. I miss you.

"Share the F***ing Road"

Cyclists Court Death Daily

It's dangerous, but Miami is getting friendlier to bikes.
By Isaiah Thompson
Published: January 31, 2008 in the Miami New Times

"Before the sun rises over Miami — before the highways swell with traffic and the streets begin to hum with the sound of a million motors turning at once — the first bicycles appear. From the east — the beaches, Key Biscayne — come the racers. Clad head to toe in thousands of dollars' worth of Lycra, they glide along in tight, silent packs, their wheels producing a collective whirring like a hive of wasps set loose. From the west come the construction workers, mounted on cheap, heavy mountain bikes, outfitted with hard hats and packed lunches.

For this brief moment every day, Miami is full of cyclists, rich and poor alike. As the sun peeks over the horizon, and I-95 begins dumping cars into downtown, the bicycles vanish; the city gives itself over to the cars.

At first glance, there is nary a place on God's green Earth better suited to biking than Miami. It's utterly flat, with weather that lets a cyclist pedal year-round without donning so much as a scarf in January. Its streets are wide and, for the most part, arranged in a tidy, easily navigable grid.

But to ride in Miami is to be among the few and the hunted. Florida ranks among the highest in bicycle fatalities in the nation — second only to California — and in 2006, eight cyclists were killed on Miami roads; nearly 400 were injured. Such statistics are nebulous, though; many bicycle accidents go unreported. Even a crash that results in death might not be recorded as a bike fatality if the victim dies at the hospital.
...

While most of the county's bike planning exists in a cryogenic freeze, Miami Beach's has begun to thaw. The city went from having a single four-block bike lane in 2004 to boasting five bike lanes, four of them within the past year — by Miami-Dade standards, a revolution. The lanes are largely the result of the efforts of local busybody, neighborhood activist, and BPAC member Gabrielle Redfern, who is running for Miami Beach City Commission in the fall of 2009.

A true Miami Beach patriot, she rides the requisite beach cruiser, a bright olive green Trek painted with little flowers and equipped with a pretty reed basket. "I'm a middle-age Jewish lady who's running for commissioner," she explains, pedaling in the slow, comfortable way that people on the Beach do. "I have to ride a respectable bike."

Five years ago, during her first, unsuccessful bid for a commission seat, Redfern raised a stink when Miami Beach was designated a Bicycle-Friendly City by the League of American Bicyclists. The city had won only a bronze medal, but even so, Redfern's suspicions were immediately aroused: At the time, Miami Beach didn't have a single bike lane.

According to the league's director, Bill Nester, the city's application — submitted by its former director of environmental resources, Bruce Henderson — boasted of 11 miles of bike lanes. Miami Beach has since been removed from the organization's Bicycle-Friendly roster. The city hasn't reapplied.
...

"They say it's not safe to ride on Alton Road. But it's not safe because there are no bike lanes. Bicycles will never be transportation vehicles until people feel safe to use them."
As we cruise down Meridian Avenue, a driver revs his car engine and pulls in front of us. The passenger's head juts out the window. "You don't bike in the middle of the fucking road, bitch!" he yells, and the car tears off."

To see the full article go to The Miami New Times

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

The Good - The South Dixie Highway Bike Path



The bike path utilizes the space beneath the elevated Miami Dade County Metro, paralleling South Dixie Highway (aka US 1). For long stretches, it weaves beneath the concrete supports, offering shelter from the hot southern sun. This is a smart, smart way to utilize what would be abandoned space beneath the rail line.

The Bad - The Intersections



The Metro's elevated track intersects all the major Avenues and weaves back and forth across US1. Every time it does, you've got to find your way across six lanes of homicidal traffic. It's unlit at night, and the blind curves and improbable exits make for a thrill ride equaled only by skitching in wool mittens.

The Ugly - Hey Ma, lets go play on that jungle gym under the Metro. You know, the one right next to the power substation?



What are they, kidding?

I'm the first to admit that just about everything looks better in the early morning Miami light, but nothing saves this pathetic attempt at 'public space' from looking exactly like what it is - an abandoned, dirty, miserable, your tax dollars at work, boondoggle. I mean who in their right mind would let their children within 100 yards of the power substation, much less play right next to it. The electrical buzz is so strong, my metal fillings vibrate as I ride by.

At least the sand might slow down the homicidal motorists.

Cheating on my Honey

Damn, but ain't she sweet?

I mean, I feel guilty and all, but you know how it is?
It's cold in NYC.
And this sweet thing practically jumped in my lap and said 'ride me sugar'.
Look at those classic curved lines, that phat round rear-view. And it's not like she hasn't been around the block once or twice. The girl may look good, but she's pushing 30, at least.

Baby, it's cold outside - but not in Miami where I found this cream puff listed on Craigslist.

Now, Miami is not the most bike-friendly of towns. Uber-car-culture makes for much unpleasantness when trying to navigate this city, but like many auto-centric areas, the main thoroughfares are hell, and every other street is smooth, flat and empty of all traffic.
For some reason, people in cars are willing to sit in traffic and honk at each other rather than hit a few back street stop signs. This means more road for those of us on two wheels, but unlike NYC, here the streets don't all connect. It is actually impossible for me to get where I'm going without braving some of the worst intersections I've ever seen.
Miami is criss-crossed with canals which make navigation more complicated than I'm used to. You may be headed in the right direction, but the only way over the water probably involves eight lanes of traffic, none of whom have apparently ever seen a bicyclist before.



I'd say it's frustrating, but really, when I get stuck or get yelled at, I just take a deep 70 degree breath and gently reassure my new-found love that all will be well.
As they say on Wayne's World - "SCHWINN!"