Lost in History vol. 77: 3way Bro-date Bike ride to Flushing; Farewell Shea Stadium.

Every forecast we checked promised a perfect weather weekend, considering this was still February. Saturday's bright sunshine, clear blue skies, slight breeze and mid-to-high-50s meant one thing: bicycling! And where better to ride our trusty two wheelers to, but a far-off land of outer-borough exoticism and tongue-numbing food, Flushing! Rounding out the adventure team were our buddies Josh Bernstein, food writer extraordinaire, and Jean Barberis, a dapper and delightful Frenchman of extraordinary abilities.
First Josh biked from his place in Crown Heights to mine in Bushwick, a total of 3.5 miles. Together, Josh and I then hustled up to Jean's pad in Woodside, another 4.3 miles. Once we pickedup the Frenchman, we all boogied our way to Flushing, tallying another 4.5 miles, but we got turned around in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park and ended up in the Queens Botanical Garden before hitting the magical land of East Asian delicacies along Main street, Queens, USA.
Flushing started out its lengthy history as a Dutch trading village called Vlissingen. Always a center for ethnic diversity and religious tolerance, proved as such way back in 1657 with the Flushing Remonstrance, which allowed Quakers and others to worship freely, against the wishes of the New Netherlands Governor (and mean son-of-a-bitch) Peter Stuyvesant. The Remonstrance is widely considered a birthplace of religious freedom in the new world.
A few hundred years have gone by since, and the diversity (both ethnic and religious - there are over 200 houses of worship within 2.5 sq miles!) of Flushing pulses up and down the streets. Before Flushing became NY's largest Chinatown, it was mostly Italian and Greek. They left during Great White Flight in the 70s, and the immigrants from SE Asia started pouring in. Nowadays Flushing is crammed with Koreans, Bangladeshis, Pakistanis, Indians, and Chinese from the Sichuan, Fujian and Hunan provinces.
Our aim was the Flushing Mall on 39th avenue. On our way in, we were greeted by a very friendly Chinese dragon, a remnant from the Year of the Ox celebration last weekend. The Flushing Mall is a split-level, split-personality spot, with clothing stores, tailors and two small cafes on the ground floor surrounded by plain decor and uninspired mall decor. Turn a corner and go down some stairs and one enters a subterranean food court and electronics shops surrounded by multi-colored flooring and walls, with a space-age modern Asian design scheme. We went ground level for Korean-Chinese dumplings, and underground for spicy Dandan noodles, spicy hot and sour soup with rice noodles and lamb, and spicy fried chicken over sticky rice with salad. Needles to say, we weren't in it for the bland or boring. Everything was cheap, delicious, and spicy, but unfortunately not the face-melting-off spicy we were looking for, just the caught-in-the-back-of-the-throat-type-cough spicy. Next time . . .
Filled to the gills with szechuan foods and fantastically happy, we went two separate ways - Josh for some food shopping and Jean and I towards the Queens Museum. En route we passed the almost-entirely-gone Shea stadium, formerly home to the NY Mets, the lovable/hateable underdogs of MLB's National League. Its not that they suck, the way the Knicks suck, its that they try really hard but never make it to the finals. (Don't ask me, I don't do sports.) However, I DO do NY's iconography, and the vision of the classic Shea Stadium, all but its Western Wall pulled down to make way for a parking lot for the new Citi Field (which should be named the Citi / Taxpayer Field, but don't get us started) was heavy on the heart.
Off to the QMA, for short films on Queens and a Q&A at the QMA with the filmmakers. Following, we had a fantastic bike ride back to Bushwick, (6 miles), first stopping & dropping Jean in Woodside. Magical, marvelous mouthfuls of Queens on a beautiful bizarrely blue-sky Saturday in February should be on everybody's life list. Next up, the Bronx!

Lost in History vol. 71: Party for Your Right to Ride!

On Tuesday night we had the pleasure of converging at a midtown bar, in a room full of people who like to drink and ride bikes (hopefully not, but probably sometimes, at the same time). However, instead of drinking and riding (hard to accomplish, let alone in a cramped Chelsea bar), we were standing around on our own two legs schmoozing, boozing, talking shop about cycling in the city and crossing fingers for the bike stuff raffle. Welcome to the first ever social mixer/benefit for the positive, progressive bike advocacy organization Transportation Alternatives.

Trans Alt (or TA) was founded in 1973, during the cresting wave of environmental action and organizations that also birthed the Clean Air and Clean Water Acts, as well as the Environmental Protection Agency. Although Trans Alt is hardly as powerful as sweeping legislation or a major government branch, they are still effecting small and large changes on the streets of New York. TA’s predominant focus is on bicycle and pedestrian advocacy, in five different fields: Bicycling, Walking and Traffic Calming, Car-Free Parks, Safe Streets and Sensible Transportation. TA stresses that it is not focused only on cyclists – their goal is the best possible utilization of our multifarious mixed-use avenues. In their very helpful green transportation hierarchy, TA demonstrates how different a city block could be if it were occupied by 50 New Yorkers in cars vs. 50 New Yorkers on bikes vs. 50 New Yorkers on a city bus. Clearly, the mass transportation mode beats private autos, and the happy cyclists trump all.

A phenomenal 110,000 cyclists travel the city every day, whether commuting to and from work, riding for work (say, delivering food, packages and documents), or for leisure. All these people deserve safer bike lanes and off-street greenway paths to get to work and home (and the bar) safely; daily commuters need more indoor and outdoor bike racks to lock up their trusty rides — all of these are causes for which Trans Alt lobbies, in City Hall and Albany, for the sake of safer roads for everyone— cars included. Along with bike advocacy, TA works towards traffic-calming atmospheres, where local community groups join the Department of Transportation to achieve pedestrian-primary spaces (parks, streets. routes) throughout the city.

Back to the booze and the blab about bikes. TA’s first mixer/benefit (because when you think about it, cyclists only get together on their bike, which is hardly time to talk shop) was a rousing success. 150 happy people (out of TA’s 6000-strong membership) crammed into The Black Door’s back room, swilling free drinks and snacking on veggies and dip. The atmosphere felt more like an after-hours office party than a collection of strangers who prefer the cycle to the subway.

Ryan Nuckel, TA’s Membership Director shared some facts about Transportation Alternatives. First off, they’re growing rapidly: a few years ago they just had 7 paid staffers, and now they’re up to 20 full-timers and practically bursting out of their office (a few flights above The Black Door). Also, TA sees itself as the wonky, legislative side to the cycling community. (As opposed to Critical Mass, the take-it-to-the-streets direct action side — with which TA has no official affiliation, although members of TA ride CM all the time.) Wonky political pushers are important when dealing with mega-bureaucracies like NYC and the DOT — to get the Man on your side, you have to know how to talk to him. To that end, TA is involved heavily with small-time players with moderate agendas — like City Council members, a dozen of whom have signed an open letter to Police Commish Ray Kelly and Mayor Bloomberg asking that the charges against Christopher Long (the Critical Mass rider who was knocked to the ground by a rookie cop) be dropped, and that a fuller investigation into the NYPD’s anti-bike tactics are opened. It’s a start . . .

On the whole, it was a lovely evening, filled with booze, bikes, and beautiful people, excited about all of the above. Unfortunately we didn’t win anything from the Trans Alt merch table raffle, so after two free whiskeys and some veggies and dips, we mounted our freewheel singlespeed Fuji, snapped on our helmet, and headed east, along a lovely bike path that was planned specifically for us.

Bicycle Fetish Day and After-Disaster!

Hooray for Bicycle Fetish Day! Hooray for the City Reliquary! Boo for 5 stitches over two lacerations in one's right (that is to say: typing & writing) hand. Boo for a suspension of posts on ActionDirection blog. Lets show some pretty pictures and briefly explain a) Bike Fetish Day and b) how I ended up with abovementioned stitches.

A) Bike Fetish Day is the single largest community event the City Reliquary hosts all year. It's a day long celebration of bike culture and events, and we have a block party, where local bike gangs ride their tricked-out and bedecked two wheelers:

Where we have a blazin Bar-B-Que:


Where I acted as the MC for a bunch of great and goofy bike awards, like Ugliest Bike, Smallest Two Wheeler, Most Tricked Out Bike, Best in Show, etc etc.


We also had the Rude Mechanical Orchestra, a politico-radical-marching-band perform, as well as a Brazilian Drum Core group.


It was an overall blast. Maybe 250-300 people showed up, ate watermelon, rode their bikes, boogied to the DJs Stacher and Dirtyfinger, and it is generally surmised that everyone had a glorious time. I also agreed to host and manage the after-party, in the CR's backyard. Most of the other Reliquarians wanted no part in the party, but BFU Marin Tockman agreed to bartend. Here's where disaster strikes.

B) As I'm stocking an ice cooler with beer for the party, I shove a bottle into the cooler with too much force and it explodes in my hand. Blood everywhere. Dave, CR Prez wraps a gauze pad around the gaping slashes in my palm and we call the ambulance. The EMTs determine I need stitches and its best to get them done now. Here's my bloody claw in the ambulance. Note the arrow indicating the damage.


I might be all smiles in this picture (and the snazziest dressed mofo at Woodhull hospital),

but the ensuing evening, in which I missed the party I was supposed to host, was spectacularly depressing. 2 hours in the ER, another 2 in the Triage Unit, watching a mounting battle of empty threats between two alkies (druggies? possiblys.) who were screaming in their respective English and Spanish, that they were going to fucking kill each other. No matter that the one speaking English didnt understand a word of Spanish; no matter that the one speaking Spanish couldnt comprehend a word of English; regardless, these two screwshits were hollering muerte y puta de madre and all sorts of angry mania directly from the mouths of two men, knocked clear out of the ballpark I dont even think they came to the hospital together. All I wanted was for my hand to get stitched and to crawl into a cab, back to my pad.

Which, 4 hours after strolling into the joint, finally occured. 3 stitches in the top gash, two smaller in the lower, and frustrated, angered, infuriated and depressed, i got the holy hell out of there. Marin and other reliable sources say the party was lowkey but cool, and i didnt miss much. What I missed was the whole thing - the party I was hosting for my museum. But now I can tell people I got into a bar fight with a beer bottle, however it wasnt a bar, but a Community Museum, and it wasnt a fight with another patron, but a battle with the bottle.

The hand's all better now (you can see the scar right under the index finger if you squint),

but for the last few weeks it was too stressful to type or write, as too much flexing of the index and mid fingers have caused pain and frustration. Thanks to all who helped me through the night and ensuing weeks.

Lost in History vol. 47 - Ghost Bikes

(Ryan the Boy affixes flowers and candles to Anthony's Ghost Bike)

The crowd massed on an semi-derelict corner in Bushwick, at least eighty strong, straddling their various two-wheelers: simple road bikes, complex mountain machines boasting thirty gears and sets of shocks, fixies, single speeds, a clutch of homemade mutant tall bikes and urban choppers. The mood was somber, like the overcast gray skies, but tinged throughout with a glimmer of hope. The group’s collective attention was focused on a small BMX bike with thick tires, painted all in white, covered with flowers and surrounded by candles, at the corner of Palmetto and Central Avenues. Placed underneath the bike’s frame was a little wooden placard, which read:

Anthony Delgado
13 years old
Killed by SUV
April 29th, 2007
Rest in Peace

Then one of the organizers of the day’s procession took to a overturned milk crate, a black bullhorn held aloft. In a clear voice laden with emotion and tension, she began.

Today we gather in honor of those killed on New York City streets. This past year countless pedestrians were killed by motor vehicles. On average, one pedestrian is killed every other day on the streets and at least twenty-three cyclists have been killed in 2007. We are riding in honor of Anthony Delgado, Jeffrey Moore, Mark Grichevsky (GRE-CHEV-SKY), Juan Solis, Luis Ramos, Carolina Hernandez, Elijah Wrancher, Habian Rodriguez, Craig Murphey, Sam Hindy, David Smith, Franco Scorcia, Ronald Mortensen, eleven unnamed riders and the countless pedestrians and cyclists whose deaths go unreported and unrecognized. We ride with love in our hearts, with sadness for what has been lost, with rage that these crashes didn't have to happen, and hope that we never have to do this again. With these ghost bikes and memorials we want to raise awareness about a bicyclist's right to the street and pedestrian's right to safe passage in the hopes that New Yorkers can change the climate on the road and learn to respect each other.

The bicycle advocate then went on to tell us that on April 29th, 2007 Anthony Delgado was riding his bike home with a friend from a local baptism. An SUV pulled out of the lane in order to pass a slower-moving car and hit Anthony head on. He was pronounced dead at the scene. The ghost bike, marking the point of impact where Anthony was struck, is his neighborhood memorial.

(two mourners, Marin and Riley. Neither knew Anthony Delgado,
nevertheless, the emotional pull was strong.)

This ongoing, worldwide project is called Ghost Bikes. According to its stark, simple, yet emotional explanation on the website, “Ghost Bikes are small and somber memorials for bicyclists who are killed or hit on the street. A bicycle is painted all white and locked to a street sign near the crash site, accompanied by a small plaque. They serve as reminders of the tragedy that took place on an otherwise anonymous street corner, and as quiet statements in support of cyclists' right to safe travel.” Originally started in St. Louis in 2003, Ghost Bikes have been seen throughout the five boroughs since June 2005, thanks to the NYC Street Memorial Project and the arts collective Visual Resistance. VR is an open alliance of artists and activists who understand that one needs more than soapbox oration and take-it-to-the-streets activism to engender change in any stultified community. They were the ones who arrived on scene minutes after the car crash that took the life of Elizabeth Padilla in ’05, and they were the ones who brought a bicycle, painted it white, and locked it to the lamppost on the corner where the victim lost her life. An impromptu memorial with deep repercussions, the idea soon took off. In 2007 the project shifted hands to the NYC Street Memorial kids, who consolidated the various efforts that it takes for each ghost bike: research on the crash itself (which often involves talking to reticent cops or delving into various reports), contacting the families and loved ones, constructing and painting the bike, bringing it to the intersection and finally, upkeep. Everyone involved is an active member of NYC’s cycling community, and all are 100% volunteers, from conception to presentation. (photo of Craig Murphey memorial, Ten Eyck and Union)

Back to that blustery morning in Bushwick. This was the third anniversary of the Memorial Ride, and each year the ride commemorates lives lost the previous year. Most of today’s riders had started in Bensonhurst, and had ridden up to Bushwick stopping at various Ghost Bike Memorials along the way. Other rides of the same design were happening throughout Queens, the Bronx and Manhattan, with a general convergence at the Williamsburg Bridge, for a procession and rally at City Hall to make NYC’s streets safer for cyclists. But at that moment, with Anthony Delgado’s mother on hand, making small thank yous amidst her choked-up chest, with gospel blaring from the Ford Explorer and Anthony’s smiling face airbrushed onto the hood, with eighty-plus cyclists raising their bikes in a moment of silence, the social movement, the politics, the activism was only about one thing – the life of a thirteen-year-old boy, taken too soon. (a silent bicycle raise to honor the victims)

(originally published 1/07/08 on www.thelmagazine.com)