In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
In my youth (Yes, I had one of those!), I saved my pennies (OK, nickels, dimes, quarters and dollars, too!) so I could buy a Colnago. Back then, many serious riders (and wannabes) saw it as the be-all and end-all of racing bikes.
And, yes, I did race on mine. How much of a difference did the Colnago make? Well, I didn’t exactly make my fantasy come true: My Colnago Arabesque would be the last bike (frame, actually) I’d buy. Someone, i.e., a race team sponsor, would buy me my next bike, whether it were a Colnago or something else.
Of course, I can’t blame the bike: I started racing later than those guys named Eddy and Jacques and Bernard. And I probably didn’t spend as much training because, you know, I had another job. For those guys, training was their job: They spent at least as much time at it as I did in my non-cycling employment.
Anyway, I am remembering how I saved my money for the Arabesque because I just learned that Sotheby’s is auctioning a Colnago. No, not the one I rode. Is it the one Tadej Pogačar pedaled to the podium? (Ok, I was taking poetic license!) Well, almost: It’s the same model-V4Rs—but with a twist: It’s gold-plated.
How many pennies would I have to save for that one? Well, if I skip a few meals and museum trips and don’t buy any more bike stuff or clothes, I can afford…to go to the auction. It’s being held in Monaco. But once I get there, will I be able to afford to park my yacht?😏
Poor conception, planning and execution. Oh, and shoddy or non-existent maintenance.
Too many “bike lanes” are nothing more than strips of asphalt or concrete delineated by stripes or arrows from the main roadway. Some are even worse: You wonder whether whoever designed or built them has ridden a bicycle since childhood—and whether they rode beyond their family’s yard or the local playground—or whether they’re conspiring with vehicle manufacturers and fossil fuel extractors (and other Trump campaign donors) to kill off cyclists.
I lean toward the latter after seeing Momentum Mag’s “These Could Be The Worst Bike Lanes In America.” There are the kinds of lanes I’ve ranted about in previous posts: the ones that begin or end seemingly out of nowhere, the ones that go nowhere and those that are all but impossible to enter or exit. Oh, but there’s worse: lanes that merge into, or emerge out of, highway traffic and one that is sandwiched between 70 mph (115 mph) lanes of traffic, separated only by lines of white paint.
Although I’ve ridden on some doozies here in New York, none from my hometown made Momentum’s “worst” list. That lanes in Texas and Florida (which has, by far, the highest cyclist death rate in the US) are in the article is no surprise, at least to me, as I have ridden in both states. But I find it astonishing that Seattle and some supposedly bike-friendly communities in California would also have such egregiously dangerous lanes that, in some instances, are even more hazardous for cyclists than the traffic lanes.
Warning: Today's post won't be about bicycles or bicycling.
Many people, especially in the media, believe that at least one of Trump's trials will be the "trial of the century."
Now, call me jaded, but I've heard more than one court case so hyped. Nearly three decades ago, we were treated to the spectacle of the recently-departed O.J. Simpson: that era's "trial of the century." And, two decades before that, we almost witnessed a proceeding that, had it happened, would have been so labelled.
A few days ago, former Times sports reporter pointed out some parallels between that O.J.'s case and the one currently playing out for Donald Trump. One obvious comparison is the media spectacles that both have generated. But more to the point, as Robert Lipsyte explains, is that people's opinions about those trials--and the outcome, in O.J.'s case and potential outcome for DT--have less to do with the guilt or innocence of the defendants than with people's political and social stances.
As Lipsyte recounts, he was having lunch in a Boston sports bar when the O.J. verdict was announced. "The diners, predominantly white, froze in shock," he recalls. "The kitchen and wait staff, mostly black, were on the perimeters of that room, clapping and shouting." Those workers, he said, saw the verdict as a vindication or "payback" for the acquittal, three years earlier, of four Los Angeles police officers charged with beating Rodney King even if some of them would admit that the evidence pointed to O.J.'s guilt.
Similarly, even with all of the evidence that the 2020 election--which Trump tried to rig--wasn't "stolen" and that he has at least four decades' worth of financial, sexual and other kinds of misconduct on his resume, his supporters insist that current attempts to hold him accountable are "politically motivated" and the result of a "witch hunt."
Whether or not Trump's court appearances constitute the "Trial of the Century," had an inquiry into another former president's offenses resulted not resulted in his resignation, we would surely have witnessed the "Trial of the Century" half a century ago.
On this date in 1974, the Judiciary Committee of the House of Representatives began its impeachment hearings against then-President Richard Nixon. The charges against him were mainly, but not solely, related to the Watergate break-in. Those hearings culminated two and a half months later when the Committee--with Republicans joining Democrats (imagine that!) approved three articles of impeachment against him. Had he not resigned two weeks later, most historians agree that he would have faced impeachment from the full House and a trial in the Senate and, possibly, the Supreme Court. The latter certainly would have been that era's "Trial of the Century."
So, while TotC hasn't been announced as often as, say, the end of the world, I am still wary of applying it to any court case--even one involving Donald or O.J., or one that could have involved "Tricky Dick." Then again, it was hard to beat the O.J. Trial for sheer spectacle, just as Donald's is compelling for the sordidness of the defendant. Some would have said the same about Nixon's trial, had it come to pass.
