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Park Alarm

9/20/2014

5 Comments

 
Central Park has long been famous for its zoo, but today the Park itself is a zoo. It’s as if everyone were afraid to miss Autumn, as if this were the last day to catch it. Almost. Fall begins in two days. Meanwhile, the place is jammed. And who are these guys?
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Isn’t Oktoberfest in October? Actually - as I discover later - they turn out to be right on time. Octoberfest begins today.

I'm on my way to join The Bromptoneers, a jolly band of Brompton riders, who gather at NYCeWheels for a weekly ride. I arrive at 85th and York as planned - then turn right around: we’re headed back to Central Park. I’m a little anxious about how we will fit into the already crowded scene there. This is the first sight to greet us upon entry at 86th St. Kind of wonderful.
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Our guide, Jack reassures us that we will be taking it easy and off we go.
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The bike path has every conveyance imaginable.

Bikes.

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And bikes.
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Scooters
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Horse Drawn Carriages
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Bicycle Rickshaws
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Baby Strollers
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Trucks
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It's a hot mess.
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No matter how many signs there are on the street, no matter what direction the crowd is going, there is always some fool (and his posse) who is going to try this:
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Or this...
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Oh, did I mention roller bladers?
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Today too, there seems to be an overwhelming number of vulnerable pedestrians (including a lot of kids)
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More than usual it seems to me. But maybe I’m just noticing them more. Because today, while the biking mood appears festive, there is a shadow over the bike path. No one speaks about it - they don’t have to. Just yesterday 58 year old Jill Tarlov was mowed down by an out of control biker, who swerved to avoid pedestrians at a crosswalk. She is currently on life support, and everyone on a bike today knows it. There is an increased police presence in the Park - Police are out with radar guns and handing out summonses - but that’s not it. I have never seen the kind of courtesy at cross-walks I am seeing today:
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It’s as if there is a collective understanding that we’ve taken it too far.
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The longer I ride, the more I cringe at the arrogance I felt in my first flush of freedom, as I rediscovered a childhood passion and connected with Lucille. The joy of being able to run away from a year of tragedy and drudgery, of breathing for the first time in 30 years, brought on a terrific arrogance of which I am now ashamed. On this blog, I referred to pedestrians as “Hapless.” Forgetting of course that it’s bad behavior on the part of cyclists that has made them so; that the moment I dismount my bike, I too am a pedestrian. And even if I don't…

We pass the turn off at 105th, and I realize we will be tackling Fiend’s Hill. Hooray! Fiend’s Hill is a tough-love friend if you bike in Central Park. It will tell you whether you’re in the shape you think you’re in, whether your state of mind is what you had thought it was, what the humidity really is, whether you brought the right bike. It’s a great barometer.

You can always tell you’re at Fiend’s Hill by this sight.

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As I pass this crowd, I hear someone say, “That was great!” I feel sorry for her. She doesn’t know she’s only half way up.

And it strikes me that one of the reasons I’ve improved climbing Fiend’s Hill, is that I have the advantage of knowing just how long my struggle will be. Like a familiar adversary, Fiend’s Hill and I have sized each other up. Today, I am the master. But that could change if I don’t come here for a few days.

We round the southern end of the Park and I decide to leave the Bromptoneers when they exit at 86th – no point in riding back to the far East Side. I’ll do the loop one more time and take the subway home. We wave good bye as we go our separate ways, and it’s up Fiend’s Hill one more time.

As I come down the other side, there is a conveyance I haven’t seen in the Park: a garbage truck, towing a skate boarder (hard to spot but he was there).

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This has to be a bitter-sweet experience for him (literally), but he's having a great time. And then I see this:
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A reminder of the accident, asking the public for help.

New York has always been a dangerous city. And there are enough ghost bikes around to remind us all how dangerous cycling can be here. As cyclists, we’ve long been accustomed to thinking of ourselves as the minority. As potential victims. And certainly that’s an aspect of cycling in NY. But something is shifting in the Park. And it’s not because of Citi Bikes and rental bikes there – these are far too clunky to pose a threat to anybody.

My recollection of Central Park up to now, is that it was a sort of controlled chaos, but it basically worked if you kept your wits about you. Pedestrians had their numbers going for them, cyclists their speed. But now the number of cyclists has reached a critical mass and it’s threatening the balance. The tragedy that occurred two days ago never should have happened. And it simply cannot be repeated.

As cyclists, we've always depended on the kindness of strangers for our activity. If we abuse that kindness, we will be dealing with a word I am increasingly hearing, “Bikelash.” Already there are those who would like to take some of our privileges away (The Post is one of those).

As our numbers have grown in the Park, we are going to have to reframe how we see ourselves - no longer as the minority, as victims, but as a powerful and even dangerous contingent. And that means taking on the responsibility that power confers. Let’s see what happens.

5 Comments
Fred DuBose link
9/20/2014 09:00:46 pm

Another absorbing post, Mel! I saw the heartbreaking news about Jill Tarlov yesterday. It took me back to my days working in Midtown, when pedestrians were scared sh*tless as bike messengers sped through crosswalks and missed us by inches.

And thanks for giving a name to the hill I tackle at least twice a week on my exercise walks through the park! I always feel relieved when I spot the yellow traffic light on the left, which marks the peak of Fiend's Hill. Then I jog most of the way to the park entrance at 110th and Lenox, wondering if a lot of the bikers headed in the opposite direction know what they have in store.

Reply
Melodie
9/21/2014 07:41:19 am

Hi Fred - Well good for you that you tackle Fiend's Hill! Yes, it really helps to know the territory.

We still have those scary bikers down here - usually delivery guys. I don't know what the solution is for them, but the rest of us can at least obey the law!

Reply
Phil O'Brien link
9/21/2014 01:10:10 am

Hi Melodie. That a really good article. I've enjoyed those Brompton Bike rides - and think your photos and thoughts illustrate the "chaos" of New York city biking (especially in Central Park). Cycling makes us feel alive - but we all need to respect that when you go faster than a walking pace in/on any metal contraption, we need to be respectful and take care for us and others. Thanks for sharing. Phil

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Melodie link
9/21/2014 07:48:06 am

Hi Phil - thanks for your kind words. It was a fun day as far as riding with the Bromptoneers goes, but a really sad day in Central Park. Something's gonna have to change there. I don't know about you, but I remember when people used to ride horses in the Park (I did myself on occasion)! Can you imagine adding horses to that chaos now? I mean, aside from the carriage horses who have no business being there already IMHO. And now DeBlasio wants to add electric cars into that mix? Does not sound like a good solution.

This blog is new (as of May when I met Lucille), but I feel I'm developing my voice as a writer. If you enjoy, would you consider sending it around to any other people you know who might like it? Right now, I have literally, let's see....maybe 15 people? I'm hoping if I can get my numbers up (even if people don't read it), I might get sponsored, or be able to leverage them into an online column somewhere. It makes such a difference to know I'm reaching New Yorkers!

PS When are you coming on the next Brompton ride?

Melodie

Reply
JEFF link
8/1/2015 01:20:56 pm

I love scooters. They're so convenient.

Reply



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    Melodie Bryant is a resident of NYC and avid cycler of a folding Brompton bike named Lucille and a Scott road bike, Lola.

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