I'm beginning to suspect a lot of people have no idea what they're talking about.

Remember my new tires that aren't for fat bikes and yet are apparently for fat biking, provided you do it in summer?

Well Friday I risked life, limb, and warranty by using them in the winter:

It was slow going at first and I was about to turn back, but eventually I got a little rhythm going and made it to the city line:

Emboldened, I pressed on, where footprints indicated only a few intrepid souls had ventured here before me:

And ultimately made it to this mighty waterfall, located far, far upstate in a quaint little rural enclave called "Yonkers:"

Then I cut a hole in the ice, fished for my dinner, spent the night under a bivouac, and undertook the roughly three-mile return trip the next morning.

In all, the entire ride was a little over six miles, and I was gone for a mere fourteen (14) days.

Meanwhile, remember awhile back I mentioned this building?

Well, when I did a reader who is involved with it was kind enough to send me some passes to the Sugar Hill Children's Museum of Art and Storytelling, which is located therein:

(Pic from here.)

I'm pleased to report we marched all seventeen (17) children onto the subway this past weekend for a visit, and it was great.  If you too are the parent of small human children in this city I should not have to tell you the importance of indoor activities located close to subway stations (especially in winter), and as such I would strongly recommend that you add this wonderful institution to your inventory of weekend activities.  (You can read more on my other blog, Parenting Snob NYC.)

Who says bike blogging doesn't pay?

Indeed, later in the day I was still brimming with good cheer, and so I headed back out for an afternoon ride.  I didn't feel like trudging through the snow again, and you never know what road conditions are going to be like outside of the city after a snowstorm, so instead of riding north I headed down to Central Park for a leisurely spin.  The streets were perfectly passable, but of course the shoulders and bike lanes were clear in some places and a mess in others:

I was in no particular hurry, nor was I particularly eager to slip and fall in a puddle of slush, so I rode slowly and savored the brief respite from the twin tumults of weather and parenthood.  Heading south on St. Nicholas, I turned left onto W. 120th Street, from whence I intended to make a right onto Adam Clayton Powell, which would then deposit me right into the park:

Anyway, there I was heading east on 120th.  Traffic ahead of me was moving slowly due to a double-parked vehicle (shocker!) and the cars were shifted over to the left.  As I mentioned, I was in no particular hurry, and the road shoulders were variably messy.  It's also a short block owing to the fact that St. Nicholas cuts across it diagonally, so I made no attempt to pass anybody and instead took my place in the traffic queue in anticipation of making the right.

Meanwhile, the driver behind me starts honking.  I can't see any reason he'd be honking at me, since there are cars up ahead of me and I'm certainly not holding him up in any way.  So I figure he's just one of these assholes who honks whenever traffic's not moving as quickly as he'd like, which a lot of idiots do when driving in the city.

I'm still blissed out from the familial activities earlier in the day, and I'm also still really happy to be out on my bike on a Saturday afternoon, and so I choose to ignore this minor blemish on an otherwise lovely day.

Unfortunately, as I make the right onto Adam Clayton Powell, the honking driver pulls up to me and starts berating me for not riding in the bike lane.  He's very insistent.  I have to ride in the bike lane.

So let's look at W. 120th Street between St. Nicholas and Adam Clayton Powell:

There is indeed a bike lane on the left side of it.  However:

1) I'm preparing to make a right;
2) The road shoulders are slushy;
3) Traffic is shifted over to the left due to a double-parked car, just like in the streetview, so you wouldn't know there's a bike lane anyway:

In fact the streetview scenario is pretty much the same scenario as when I was there, with the addition of the slush, and so I was positioned accordingly, directly following the vehicles ahead of me:

And once again, I'm moving at the same speed of the rest of the traffic, so you can't even say I'm holding anybody up.

Given all of this I have no obligation to be in the bike lane.  First of all, there's snow in it.  Sure, it's not an Obama 2009 amount of snow:

More like a Trump 2017 smattering:

So it's patchy and intermittent, but it's there.

And even if there had been no snow and instead puffs of pink clouds in the bike lane spelling out "Ride me!," I'm preparing for a turn at an intersection, so given all of these factors there's no reason for me to be in the bike lane according to state law:

Whenever a usable path or lane for bicycles has been provided, bicycle riders shall use such path or lane only except under any of the following situations: (i) When preparing for a turn at an intersection or into a private road or driveway. (ii) When reasonably necessary to avoid conditions (including but not limited to, fixed or moving objects, motor vehicles, bicycles, pedestrians, pushcarts, animals, surface hazards) that make it unsafe to continue within such bicycle path or lane.

The New York City Department of Transportation puts it even more succinctly:

On top of all that, you can use either side of a 40-foot wide one-way roadway, and I think Manhattan cross streets are 60 feet wide.  (Though I might be wrong there.)

In short, there's absolutely no fucking reason, legal or practical, for me to be in that goddamn bike lane.

Yet here's some asshole in a 2010 Hyundai Santa Fe with New Jersey plates (the special ones with the lighthouse on them he probably paid extra for) not only honking at me but also telling me off for not riding in it.  Furthermore, this dimwitted shitbag has the audacity to tell me that I need to learn how to ride a bike, and that he rides everywhere, all the time.  From the driver's seat of a fucking Hyundai he says this.

Holy motherfucking shit.

I actually took video of the ensuing interaction and was looking forward to posting it today, but having cooled down over the past couple of days I've decided it would do a disservice to my valuable brand to appear on the Internet looking any way other than utterly composed.  So I've shelved it.

Righteous indignity, however warranted, is never a good look.

Nevertheless, I remain stunned by this fuckwit's audacity.  I'm Wildcat Rock Machine, dammit!  I make it my business to know where I can and can't be when I'm on my bike.  And this guy's gonna drive his Hyundai shitbox into my town and start fucking with me on a Saturday afternoon?  What goes through his head as he drives?  "Here's a guy on a bike.  He isn't holding me up or anything, but he's not in a bike lane!  I, on the other hand, ride my beach cruiser on the boardwalk in Jersey sometimes.  So I think I'll rub my dick and balls all over his face."

I am of course an inveterate "woosie" who would never embroil himself in a physical altercation, but if this guy usually behaves this way I can't believe he doesn't get u-locks put through his windshield on a regular basis.

Here's a related question: this is not the first time I've told a person with New Jersey plates to "Go back to Jersey," nor is it the first time they've replied with "I don't live in Jersey."  Why is this?  Surely there must be people who actually live in Jersey.  Are they all committing insurance fraud, or are they just embarrassed?  Or is it some combination of the two?

In any case, when you use a Citi Bike you have to agree to terms of use, and I think the same thing should apply when you drive a car into Manhattan.  Oh, sure, in theory there are laws you're supposed to follow, but we all know how that goes.  So I think in order to operate a motor vehicle in Manhattan every driver should agree to the following:

TERMS OF USE FOR DRIVING IN MANHATTAN

I hereby acknowledge the following;

1) I am choosing to drive a large heavy motorized box into the most densely populated county in the United States;

2) This choice endangers people's lives;

3) This county has an extensive public transit network and is well-served by taxis, livery, ride-hailing apps, as well as a comprehensive bike share program;

4) While I may get lucky, neither deity nor US Constitution entitles me to immunity from traffic delays, nor does it guarantee me the right to store my large heavy motorized box anywhere for free;

5) Bike lanes do not cause traffic congestion.  My large heavy motorized box, however, does;

6) I understand that people actually live in Manhattan as well as the rest of New York City.  It is not a theme park or a sitcom.  Therefore, any expectation that my car is the "It's a Small World" ride or that my windshield is a TV screen across which life will unfold according to my own whims or expectations is pathologically unreasonable;

a. Should I forget the above and elect to communicate my displeasure to any other road user by means of car horn or verbal haranguing, I acknowledge that I or my personal property may be subject to physical damage;

b. In the event of such damage, I shall not hold the other party responsible, nor shall I be entitled to any claims of loss, damage, or legal liability for anything that happens to me as a result of my being a complete douchebag;

7) If I don't like any of the above, I can feel free to shove a Bruce Springsteen box set up my ass.

I think this would go a long way towards obviating a lot of potential misunderstandings.

Anyway, apart from my exchange with Captain Fucknuts in the Hyundai, the rest of the ride was lovely.

Lastly, here you go:

Transition practice not always turning out the way you want it to, a good recovery by @Tri_Orca on TDC camp! :-) pic.twitter.com/0Pj0I9fqjr

— TEAMDILLON (@Teamdillon) February 10, 2017

You're welcome.

Sorry, but I couldn't let this one go.

I realize I said I was out of the office until Monday, February 6th, but that was before I saw this story on NY1:

Before I begin, I should say that I enjoy NY1, and like many households in this city we begin our weekday mornings with anchorperson and affable Canadian (is there any other kind?) Pat Kiernan.  However, this particular story is just...oy.  [Winces and massages temples.]  And it begins with this guy:

For 13 years, Ben Bowman has taken part in a ritual all too familiar to city car owners who park on the street. Twice a week, he moves his Jeep from one side of West 68th St. to the other to make way for street cleaners.

W. 68th Street is in the vicinity of Lincoln Center and numerous other cultural institutions, educational facilities, and famous landmarks.  If you live on W. 68th Street you can walk to everything from the Metropolitan Opera to the Dakota to an Imax movie theater to a Lowe's Home Improvement to a Trader fucking Joe's.  It is also extremely well served by public transit should you need to leave the neighborhood.  Given this, it probably won't surprise you to learn that free street parking is at a premium.  Yet, despite all this, Ben Bowman opts to deal with the hassle of keeping not just any car but this dumbass Jeep with a fucking light bar on the roof because you need that in the middle of Manhattan:

Hey, I'm sure Ben Bowman has his reasons for wasting two days a week amid this embarrassment of cultural riches in order to move a soccer mom car on steroids from one side of the street to the other.  Maybe he's an avid outdoorsman who makes frequent trips to the country.  Maybe his job requires him to haul lots of equipment at a moment's notice.  Or maybe he just likes the damn thing.  And I wouldn't care, either, except that it's turning him into a raving fucking lunatic:

With space at a premium, things can get ugly, such as the time another driver snuck into a spot Bowman had been waiting to take. 

"I went to my truck and pulled out my tire iron and stood by his door, and I said 'You can have this spot, but you're taking a beating when you get out."

Yes, here's Ben Bowman, Upper West Side resident, inhabitant of one of the most rarefied and privileged bubbles in the United States and therefore the world, explaining to a TV camera that he threatened to assault somebody with a tire iron for taking the parking space that he doesn't even fucking own.

Yet incredibly this is not a news story about mental illness, or even about how Ben Bowman should just move the hell upstate already.  It's a story about how hard it is for unfortunate souls such as Ben Bowman to find free car storage on a small island with excellent 24-hour mass transit that also happens to be the most densely populated county in the United States:

Drivers say tensions and the time it takes to find a space have been increasing since the city began eliminating parking spaces to install Citi Bike stations and dedicated bike lanes.

Here, let me fix that for you:

Drivers say tensions and the time it takes to find a space have been increasing since the city began eliminating parking spaces to install Citi Bike stations and dedicated bike lanes.

That's better.

In Manhattan alone, the city has eliminated at least 2,330 parking spaces south of 125th St. to accommodate bike lanes and bike-sharing stations, according to city records obtained by NY1 nine months after filing a request under the Freedom of Information Law.

I like how they make it sound as though they've uncovered a massive conspiracy and not simply the city's well-documented efforts to keep its citizens safe and make it easier for people to get around.

Gone, for example, are 340 spots along 1st Ave, 300 spots along 2nd Ave., and 140 on Columbus Ave. just for bike lanes.

What a tragedy!  2,330 parking spaces gone, never to return!  Lost in the mists of time, like the Lenape Indians and the verdant forests and sparkling streams that once covered this isle!  Yeah, it does sound like a lot of parking spaces--until you consider that the population of Manhattan below 125th Street is approximately 1,039,000, which means this represents a loss of approximately .002 parking spots per person.

Big fucking deal.

But if you don't feel bad for people like Ben Bowman, perhaps you'll feel bad for the people who deliver their appliances:

Car owners aren't alone in suffering.  The growth of bike lanes has made delivery work even more challenging.  These guys had to double-park on Columbus and walk a half-block to deliver a stove and refrigerator.

Okay, wait a minute: if the bike lane has made this job more challenging then why did they end up parking on Columbus, which is the street with the bike lane on it?  Why didn't they just park in front of the delivery address?  Oh, I dunno, maybe because of the giant truck unloading a Dumpster?!?

Nice try blaming the bike lane though.

Officials say that with the population growing, it's essential to get people out of cars and onto bikes. The city's transportation commissioner, Polly Trottenberg, says cars still rule the streets.

"We dedicate about 95 percent of (the streets) to automobiles," Trottenberg said, "and actually only about 5 percent to buses and cycles. And yet buses and cycles are the way we are going to carry the most people."

That's right.  And check out the Smugerati.  See how they're smiling as they roll over the graves of all those dead parking spaces?  (Actually the parking spaces are still there and have just been moved over a bit but we're not supposed to know that.)  They don't look like they want to bash anybody with a tire iron, do they?

No they don't.  But it's important to remember that in New York City anybody who rides a bike is a wealthy elitist (except for food delivery people, but they don't count), whereas anybody who drives a car is "middle class:"

That's little solace to middle class residents like Valerie Perez who need a car and can't afford garage space. 

She walks with a cane and has parked in the East 80s since 1970.

Yeah, in 1970 there was only one area code for the whole city too, and you could smoke at the doctor's office while eating fondue in the waiting room.  But you know what?  Things have a way of changing over the course of forty-seven years.  Speaking of change, someone should tell Ms. Perez tha they just opened up a brand new subway line right in her neighborhood.  In fact, between all the trains and the buses I don't think there's a more accessible neighborhood than the East 80s in the entire country:

And I don't mean to be hard on Ms. Perez, who is undoubtedly a lovely person who is simply used to doing things her own way in her own neighborhood.  But to blame bike lanes because it's harder to park on the Upper East Side in 2017 than it was in 1970 is more than a little unfair:

"It's worse than ever. It's been worse since they put the bike lanes in."

Is it because of the bike lanes?  Or is it because there are over 140,000 more registered vehicles in New York City in 2015 than there were in 2007, and about 380,000 more than there were in 1970?

I'm gong to go ahead and say it's the latter, and that we need the bike lanes because it's the only mode of private surface transportation left that's got any long-term viability.

I mean really, there were over 40,000 more registered vehicles in New York City in 2015 than there were in 2014.  Should the city have added 40,000 more parkings spaces in a single year?

Of course not:

"It's a hindrance to expect that's it your constitutional right to park for free on every street in New York City. That can't happen."

Unfortunately, Americans have a poor understanding on their constitutional rights, which explains everything from our willingness to bludgeon our neighbors with tire irons over public street space to our current president.  Also, good, honest, salt-of-the-earth middle-class people who drive cars in Manhattan resent being reminded of this by jet-setting bicycling advocates with swashbuckling mustaches.

And finally, the article goes out in a crescendo of irony:

"This Citi Bike station on Columbus Avenue extends an entire block.  It holds 67 bikes but at the expense of about nine cars."

Nine cars.  Nine measly cars!  Cars owned by crowbar-wielding psychopaths like Ben Bowman who only drive them back and forth across the street!  Actually, that's not even true.  It's metered parking on Columbus, which means it wasn't even long-term parking for those decent hard-working middle-class New Yorkers, it was just a little extra coin for the city from the unlucky schmucks who couldn't find free parking.  Meanwhile, the Citi Bike station now holds sixty-seven bikes that anybody can use--and they are using them, judging from the fact that the station is at that moment almost completely empty.

Seems to me the city's not losing parking spaces, it's gaining them.

I really hope he addresses that in Part Two, but I ain't exactly holding my breath.

And with that, I resume my absence, and I'll see you back here on Monday, February 6th with regular updates.

Your's Truely,


--Wildcat Rock Machine

The Indignity of Commuting by Bicycle: Living Here

New York City:

(Please note Philadelphia now stands in for New York City as our skyline has become way too expensive.)

You of course know it as the most bike-friendly city in America, and you'd better believe we're living up to that reputation, as this comment on yesterday's post makes abundantly clear:

vsk said ...

TIRE SPIKES !!! 2nd Ave + 14th Street NYC

I'll repeat it tomorrow because it's impOtent...

About 8 pm to 8:10 pm, someone put 6 tire spikes on the 2nd avenue bike lane about 30 feet north of the intersection of 14th street. 
I abruptly found this out as I got 2 flats. It felt like the bike ran over a stick and the tire shifted sideways and then the pssfssfssfss... I'm glad I had the idea to go back and look. 6 sheetmetal squares with the corners ripped and pointed in opposite directions were placed in the bike lane. Someone told me they are caltrops ... exactly as seen here...

The good - I think I was the first there as no one was doing any tire changes at the time. 
I got the things off the road so no one else would get screwed. 

Stopped by the precinct on 21st and 2nd. Stupid protest going on. They had their hands full. Called 311 ... "Did you remove them?" -Yes "That's commendable but I can't do anything".
I'll stop by the precinct on the way home and file something... 

Watch out for these things now...

vsk

Sounds about right.  Someone (or somesones, which is the plural of "someone") used to scatter thumbtacks in the Central Park roadway to stymie the old night ride, and I fell victim to that ploy once or twice back when I was a young Fred.  This attack does seem a bit more concerted though, at least judging from the spikes to which "vsk" linked:

These Ninja caltrops are the perfect addition to your ninja bag. No matter how they land, there is always a sharp edge pointing up.

--Great for booby traps
--Stainless steel construction
--Set of 10

I love that there are apparently lots of delusional role players out there pretending to be ninjas by carrying "ninja bags" and chasing each-other around barefoot.

Until now I thought ninjas were the embodiment of lethality, but evidently you can easily thwart them by wearing a sturdy pair of shoes.

Meanwhile, here's "Vision Zero" in action:

(Via Streetsblog)

Cops doled out fewer tickets to bad drivers in Williamsburg’s Hasidic neighborhoods because the de Blasio administration covets their votes and needs to keep them happy, a source said.

“They pander and he gives them a lot of what they want,” a former mayoral liaison said. “De Blasio is known to have tight ties to the Hasidic community.”

Moving violations in the 90th Precinct, which includes an enclave of 70,000 ultra-religious Orthodox Jews, plummeted 32 percent since de Blasio took office, NYPD records show.

Wow, no "Oy Vey-sion Zero" headline?!?

The Post really dropped the matzoh ball on that one.

Religious leaders “get in with the Police Department and do their thing,” the former official said. “I’ll tell you one thing, they didn’t all take driver’s ed and change their driving habits.”

No they did not--though they are brainwashing their young about helme(n)ts:

If you want to know why New York City's unofficial slogan is "No Criminality Suspected," it's because if you ticket religious groups who vote in blocs they won't vote for you, and if you attempt to hold union members accountable for running people over they'll sue your ass, but if you mess with cyclists the worst they'll do is put some flowers in the bike lane:

Ooh, scaaary!

They should have put helme(n)ts on top of the cones, because as I can understand it they're like Kryptonite to drivers and repel any and all danger.

Meanwhile, every so often I wonder why I still live here.  After all, there are certainly better places to ride a bike, and due to late-onset food allergies I can't eat pizza or bagels anymore, so really what's left for me here?  Therefore, in an attempt to convince myself otherwise, I headed off for a ride and immediately fell back in love with the city again.  For example, there's the inspiring architecture:

(Municipal Flat Block 18A, Linear North)

This particular stretch of the Harlem River always makes me think of this scene from "A Clockwork Orange:"

Then there's the ironic signage:

(Reduced from what?  Before they built the bridge?)

I'm sure I've mentioned this sign before, but I'm still wondering to what sort of vehicle this sign could possibly apply.

Seems to me you could fit a battleship under there.

Then there's the streetscape:

I really need to throw a pair of old Sidis up there.

And of course Central Park:

For a moment I imagined this was genuine non-Cat 6 helme(n)tless bike traffic, but as I passed them I realized they were all European tourists.

Oh well.

Of course one of the only noticeable effects of Vision Zero on cyclists is that the NYPD will now ticket the fuck out of you for running a light on your bike in Central Park, so I made sure to stop at this one, especially because there was a police car lying in wait--though as I came to a stop the police drove right through the red light just as a bunch of pedestrians were entering the crosswalk:

I like when they lead by example.

Best of all, that fall crispness is in the air, bringing with it a new wave of seasonal allergies as well as the setting up for the New York City Marathon:

By this time I was hungry, so I decided to get a slice of pizza, and then I remembered I can't eat pizza anymore so I just sat under the bleachers and cried.

Of course I could always just move away from New York and only visit when I feel like riding like an asshole, just like Lucas Brunelle does:



I think we all know that any type of bike is faster than any type of car in mid-day Manhattan crosstown traffic, but the outcome might have been different if Brunelle had encountered some tire spikes.

In any case, I'm sure Specialized is preparing a lawsuit since he raced a McLaren without promoting a Venge in a masturbatory fashion:


It will be a long time before anyone out-Freds that review.

BSNYC Friday No Quiz, Because When I Get Angry There's No Quiz

Greetings from New York, America's Most Bike-Friendly City according to Bicycling magazine!

(It's OK because the cyclist is wearing a helme(n)t.)

There are a lot of reasons why we're number one: our incrementally expanding bike infrastructure; our courteous police department; our mindful drivers...  Without a doubt though our greatest asset as a cycling city is our enlightened media:

Consider the front page of yesterday's New York Post, which I'm not going to link to because fuck 'em.  Basically they're now following the so-called "killer cyclist" who collided with a pedestrian in Central Park and waiting for him to screw up, which he eventually did (well, sort of), much to the delight of Rupert Murdoch's ball-ticklers.

So what did he do?

He ran a red light while carrying his kid on his bike:

The saxophonist slowed down as he approached a red light on Park Avenue at East 118th Street — but blew through the signal rather than wait for it to turn green.

Okay.  This guy?  Not a fan.  He hit a woman while riding his bike in Central Park and she died as a result.  Nobody seems to know for sure how fast he was going or who had the light but as far as I'm concerned it doesn't matter.  It's a park.  Even if you're going 5mph and you hit somebody you were going too goddamn fast.  Furthermore, the fact that he wasn't charged doesn't necessarily absolve him, because this is New York City, and we fail to charge drivers who kill people on nearly a daily basis.

All of the above notwithstanding, what the Post is doing here is disgusting.  First of all, read the quote above and tell me how he could have "slowed down as he approached a red light" and then "blew through the signal."  This defies physics.  You can't slow and then blow.  Everybody knows that--especially people who work for the Post, because Rupert Murdoch is constantly reminding them of this while they're fellating him.

("Don't slow, blow!," admonishes Murdoch as he pushes an employee's head downward.)

Secondly, when has the Post ever followed a motorist who's killed somebody?  Granted, I realize there's a practical reason for this, which is that last year motorists killed 178 cyclists and pedestrians in New York City.  Certainly the Post can't follow all these drivers.  It's simple mathematics.  After all, if everyone's busy chasing drivers then who's left to blow Murdoch?

("Where is everyone?!?  I need a blowie here!!!")

Thirdly--and this is the big one--they put a great big picture of this guy's kid on the front page!  Just imagine this kid walking past a deli and asking his father why he's on the front of the newspaper.  I don't care what this guy did, just thinking about that kid having to experience that is fucking heartbreaking--and I'd think the same thing if his father had killed someone with a car or a plane or even a goddamn steamroller for that matter.

Then, to top it all off, these lowlives at the Post publish were the kid goes to school!

He rode on the sidewalk on [deleted], between [deleted], and then dropped off his young son at the [deleted].

That's just sick.

By the way, I'm sure that was quite the two-wheeled homicidal death rampage when he rode his bike onto the sidewalk in front of his kid's school, which I do all the goddamn time when I drop my own kid off, much to the delight of his classmates.

And how about that light-running?  You know, the one where he did the ol' "slow-to-blow?"  Well, the Post includes a video of it (which is remarkably audacious as it obviates pretty much every word of the article) and here's what happened.  First, he slowly approaches the light:

Then he comes to a complete stop and puts his foot down:

Then he waits for traffic to pass:

Then, when there's no more traffic (or pedestrians) he slowly resumes riding:

And the light turns green like two seconds later:

So basically, when the coast was clear he jumped the light by a couple seconds, which is understandable.  Not only is he BEING FOLLOWED BY A REPORTER, but I'd also argue this is sometimes safer than waiting for the green, owing to the addled motorist dickbags waiting behind you in pole position:

("Did someone say 'pole position?'  I'll position my pole in your face, mate!")

Anyway, I had to know what kind of person follows a kid to school and then publishes a picture of him on the front page of a newspaper in a city of 8 million-plus people, so I used a popular search engine, typed the reporter's name into it, and found this:

Altoona native and former boxer Kevin Fasick tells some tough tales as a New York Post staff reporter.

Yep, just a small town hack from Palookaville trying to make it in the big city. And to be fair, he does tell some tough tales:

"As far as how I deal with the tragedy I often encounter on my job, on some level you have to compartmentalize it for your own sanity," he wrote in an email. "But the sadness often sticks with you and you have to deal with that as part of the job. I did a story of a little girl, 12-year-old Nicole Suriel, who drowned on a class trip. I spent a couple of hours in her parents' apartment.

"The father was telling us about his little girl, getting on the computer and getting photos for the photographer, while the mom stayed in the bedroom and wailed in grief. That was a long day and at the end of it, it hit me pretty hard."

Which is another way of saying he's a vulture who feeds on human tragedy:

He tells them, "You're a human being first, and what's going to make you a good reporter is by being a good human being. What we want to do is honor their loved one who may have been murdered, killed in a car wreck, died in fire, what have you. We're there to tell their stories."

Presumably then he was honoring the victim of the Central Park tragedy by stalking this guy's kid.  Of course, given his concern for the victim, you may be wondering why he doesn't do the same thing to drivers.  Well, the answer is simple: convenience.  See, the "killer cyclist" and the reporter both live in the same neighborhood, so all he has to do is roll out of bed and start stalkin'.  As for the other stories he relentlessly pursues in the service of justice, here's just a smattering:

Yeah, he's the Woodward and Bernstein of overpriced hot dogs.

And what of the New York Times?  They're better than the Post, right?  Well, sure, but that doesn't mean their editorial department is immune to a little implicit victim-blaming.  Consider this horrible story:

And before anything else, let's look at the headline:

Wait a minute.  The car was fleeing the court police?  Is the driver not responsible?  Was it one of those new Google self-fleeing cars?

Okay, so they try to pull the driver over (sorry, they try to pull the car over, I sometimes forget that in America a driver is just a hapless passenger with no culpability who happens to be sitting in front of a steering wheel at a given moment), the Apple iFlee protocol kicks in, and the Mercedes (again, not the driver, the Mercedes) hits the Cannondale (this is important why?), on top of which happens to be sitting a neuroscientist:

The hectic getaway killed Sergei Musatov, 42, an assistant professor of neuroscience in neurological surgery at Weill Cornell Medical College, a spokesman for the school said. He was riding west on East 129th Street near the Third Avenue Bridge when the Mercedes hit his Cannondale bicycle from behind, the police said. The impact sent Dr. Musatov hurtling into the windshield of the Mercedes and then onto the asphalt.

At which point the pressing question now somehow becomes WAS THE CYLIST WEARING A HELMENT???

A police spokesman said he did not know whether Dr. Musatov, who earned his doctoral degree from Saint Petersburg State University in Russia in 1998, had been wearing a helmet.

Oh for fuck's sake.

But don't worry, because there's going to be an "accident investigation:"

David Bookstaver, a spokesman for the state court system, said on Thursday that officials were waiting for the police department’s accident investigation before determining what role the court officers may have played in the crash. He said the officers were driving from the Bronx courts to the Harlem Community Justice Center on a routine patrol when the Mercedes ran the red light. He said the officers had responded so quickly because the Mercedes nearly struck their car.

"Accident investigation?"  How the hell does anybody--the court spokesman, the police, the reporter--possibly use the word "accident" in connection with a circumstance in which a driver was fleeing from a traffic stop, killed somebody in the process, and then fled the scene?

That's one big-ass "oopsie."

Furthermore, what is an "accident investigation?"  The first word completely undermines the second.  Aren't you supposed to investigate something before declaring it an accident?  When you do that in business it's called "creative accounting," i.e. "embezzling."  Yet the Times can somehow print the phrase "accident investigation" with a straight face.

Just imagine other tragic news stories employed similar syntax as stories about motor vehicle violence.  This:

Would become this:

Bronx Boy, 14, Killed by Bullet Fleeing Gun

And of course this:

Would become this:

Suddenly, at about 8:30 a.m., a Smith and Wesson approached Christopher, at which point a bullet emerged from it and entered his face.  His brother and his friend took shelter under the protective life-giving cars that line the city's streets.  Law enforcement officials did not know whether Christopher was wearing a bulletproof vest.  Or a helmet.

And naturally this:

Would become this:

Accident investigators are like, "That sucks, accidents happen."

Now I'm certainly not saying the Times are being malicious here.  It's just a symptom of how deeply ingrained driver absolution is in our culture.  We all do it to some degree, because at this point our language has evolved to distance drivers from their actions.  As the article above reveals, the way we speak is full of loopholes.  (The driver didn't do it, the car did.)  It's like those devices that help Jews cheat the Sabbath--if the gizmo is Rube Goldberg-esque enough then the user can claim they're not violating the law, but the fact of the matter is that turning on a light is still turning on a light.  Linguistically, we treat cars and drivers like Jews and lightswitches, placing an ultimately meaningless gap of passivity between them that serves to absolve them.

Now have a great weekend!

Love,



--Wildcat Rock Machine