Over the long weekend I spent some time with the ‘Noner:
I also tested my voluminous tubulars on a variety of surfaces:
Presumably gravel has gotten so trendy that people are now heading north on Citi Bikes in search of it. I’m guessing this rider got lost, wandered off in search of a deli, and was never heard from again. Expect this to keep happening until Citi Bike requires riders to tether themselves to their bikes like you do when you ride a jet ski.
Not only that, but because it wasn’t hot enough here in New York we took a little family road trip to our nation’s capital, where it was roughly nine hundred and seventy American Freedom Degrees:
Despite the heat we had a fantastic time wandering agog through the National Mall like the tourists we were, and if you or anyone in your family is interested in aviation history I would highly recommend the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, which is well worth the schlep out to Dulles International Airport for its astonishing collection:
It was a wonderful trip, and it made me grateful not only for my family, but also to live on this zany patch of land in between Canada and Mexico we like to call the USA:
[Mario Cipollini: A great American]
Nevertheless, while I try not to get political on this blog, given that we just celebrated July 4th, and I just visited Washington, DC, and it’s an election year, I’m afraid I feel compelled to address a certain elephant–and not just any elephant, but one that represents an existential threat to our nation.
I’m talking of course about scooters:
Our great monuments and memorials are moving and powerful, but if somehow the emotional wallop isn’t enough to to knock you on your ass then someone on a scooter almost certainly will. Here’s a rider who managed to clip my wife as we walked by the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool:
And here’s what I can only assume is the Croc of a younger, earlier victim who was not so lucky:
It was not far from this very spot of course where Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke those immortal words: “I have a dream… From every mountainside, let freedom ring.” So inspiring it was to be here–and yet there was seemingly no escape from the scooter riders, who did their utmost to turn this utopian dream into a Poe-tastic nightmare. Indeed, the only thing they let ring was their bells. Bells, bells, bells–In the clamor and the clangor of the bells! This behavior also extended to the streets of downtown, where tourists rode two-to-a-scooter on the sidewalk, ordered other people to move out of the way, and rang their stupid little bells at people pushing strollers.
So was I wrong about scooters all those years ago?
I dunno. Maybe it’s not so much a scooter problem as it is a tourist problem. The advocates will point out that people won’t ride on the sidewalk if they feel safe enough to ride in the street, but it’s hard to imagine the sort of person who has the temerity to ride through a freaking war memorial is going to be considerate enough to stay off the sidewalk no matter how inviting the bike micromobility lane is. Perhaps not allowing shared scooters downtown is one of the few wise decisions we’ve made here in New York City in the last 20 years.
I coulda done without ’em is all I’m saying.
