Get back on the bike.
That's what I did the other day, after an inattentive driver almost turned me into 200 pounds of Flight for Life ballast at a suburban intersection.
It was Saturday--warm, bright, and packing the first true weekend taste of spring.
I'd ridden all the way from Whitnall Park to Miller Park and was within three blocks of home when it happened.
I'm at a stop sign as Mr. Head Up His Ass approaches at high speed to my right before deciding (without signalling) to turn in front of me--actually, turn right INTO me, since he cut the corner so short I thought he'd clip my stop sign first before obliterating me and my ride. He looked up at the last moment, swerved, and narrowly missed me. My wide-eyed fear morphed into open-mouth, full-lung profanity which, I'm sure, he didn't hear. I went home, amazed at how fast the body can go from producing endorphins to adrenaline, and, as evidenced by my bike shorts, urine.
The next day dawned, just as bright and beautiful, and I rode again, never giving the incident another thought. Stop riding, just because of one idiot? A single, random act of negligence? No. I'm taking the streets back. I belong here as much as the dopes do.
So it should be at Sherman and Capitol.
Much is read and said after last week's murder of Waukesha boxing coach Scott Huggins at the Citgo station at that Milwaukee corner. The Journal/Sentinel's Mike Nichols suggested the slaying of the suburban man by a would-be robber in broad daylight might be a "nail in the coffin" for Milwaukee. His colleague, Eugene Kane, suggested that random violence is a part of life daily in areas of the city, and that it took the slaying of a white guy to shine a light on that.
So, I figured it was time to get back on the bike again. Take the streets back.
I went there to top off the tank the other morning after work, figuring I belong there as much as the dopes do.
Stop living? Just because of a one idiot? A single, random act of violence?
Nails may get driven, but I'm not going to help hold the hammer.
There was nothing extraordinary at the pumps where Huggins died, save a single bouquet taped at one island where his Jeep supposedly stood as his killer approached. "Happy Valentines Day", it read.
The gas flowed, the tank closed, the money changed hands inside as the sign on the cash register told me to "Have A Blessed Day."
And then, unlike Huggins, I drove home.
Chances are, the same will happen to you.
If we let random fear rule our lives, we keep losing parts of our city that need our support, be it with a tank of gas, a dinner purchase, or some other simple act of commerce that keeps a store open, a family fed, a neighborhood vital. Driving through because of fear only accelerates the urban decay and the proiiferation of the unlawful element that's trying to dictate where we can go, and when.
Bluntly put--you can die anywhere. A north side gas station. A Whitnall Park area intersection. Your own backyard.
That's not being morbid. It's real. And, to allow that fear to rule your life would mean we'd be pounding all sorts of nails in constructing all manner of coffins around town.
I already know too many people who won't go to various parts of the city--including downtown Milwaukee--based on fear reinforced by what they see on the news and read in the paper. Does that mean you hit the roughest streets as night hits it's darkest wearing a suit made of $100 bills? No, there's still a time for being street smart.
There's also a time to get back on the bike, Milwaukee. This is one of 'em.
Have A Blessed Day.
Here's the link to a Nichols' piece that ran after Huggins murder:
http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=581983
...and another to Eugene Kane's:
http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=582223
That's what I did the other day, after an inattentive driver almost turned me into 200 pounds of Flight for Life ballast at a suburban intersection.
It was Saturday--warm, bright, and packing the first true weekend taste of spring.
I'd ridden all the way from Whitnall Park to Miller Park and was within three blocks of home when it happened.
I'm at a stop sign as Mr. Head Up His Ass approaches at high speed to my right before deciding (without signalling) to turn in front of me--actually, turn right INTO me, since he cut the corner so short I thought he'd clip my stop sign first before obliterating me and my ride. He looked up at the last moment, swerved, and narrowly missed me. My wide-eyed fear morphed into open-mouth, full-lung profanity which, I'm sure, he didn't hear. I went home, amazed at how fast the body can go from producing endorphins to adrenaline, and, as evidenced by my bike shorts, urine.
The next day dawned, just as bright and beautiful, and I rode again, never giving the incident another thought. Stop riding, just because of one idiot? A single, random act of negligence? No. I'm taking the streets back. I belong here as much as the dopes do.
So it should be at Sherman and Capitol.
Much is read and said after last week's murder of Waukesha boxing coach Scott Huggins at the Citgo station at that Milwaukee corner. The Journal/Sentinel's Mike Nichols suggested the slaying of the suburban man by a would-be robber in broad daylight might be a "nail in the coffin" for Milwaukee. His colleague, Eugene Kane, suggested that random violence is a part of life daily in areas of the city, and that it took the slaying of a white guy to shine a light on that.
So, I figured it was time to get back on the bike again. Take the streets back.
I went there to top off the tank the other morning after work, figuring I belong there as much as the dopes do.
Stop living? Just because of a one idiot? A single, random act of violence?
Nails may get driven, but I'm not going to help hold the hammer.
There was nothing extraordinary at the pumps where Huggins died, save a single bouquet taped at one island where his Jeep supposedly stood as his killer approached. "Happy Valentines Day", it read.
The gas flowed, the tank closed, the money changed hands inside as the sign on the cash register told me to "Have A Blessed Day."
And then, unlike Huggins, I drove home.
Chances are, the same will happen to you.
If we let random fear rule our lives, we keep losing parts of our city that need our support, be it with a tank of gas, a dinner purchase, or some other simple act of commerce that keeps a store open, a family fed, a neighborhood vital. Driving through because of fear only accelerates the urban decay and the proiiferation of the unlawful element that's trying to dictate where we can go, and when.
Bluntly put--you can die anywhere. A north side gas station. A Whitnall Park area intersection. Your own backyard.
That's not being morbid. It's real. And, to allow that fear to rule your life would mean we'd be pounding all sorts of nails in constructing all manner of coffins around town.
I already know too many people who won't go to various parts of the city--including downtown Milwaukee--based on fear reinforced by what they see on the news and read in the paper. Does that mean you hit the roughest streets as night hits it's darkest wearing a suit made of $100 bills? No, there's still a time for being street smart.
There's also a time to get back on the bike, Milwaukee. This is one of 'em.
Have A Blessed Day.
Here's the link to a Nichols' piece that ran after Huggins murder:
http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=581983
...and another to Eugene Kane's:
http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=582223
4 comments:
Ride on Mueller!
Of course Eugene Kane is right. It does hit home harder to me because the man killed could have been my husband. I must admit that I called my husband and told him what happened and asked him not to stop for gas on his way home from work. The threat of an early death from anything (for those I love...for some reason, I don't worry about myself as much)does scare me, but I try my best to get over it.
You were right in stopping at that gas station. When I was in college and living on 24th & Wells, every day was facing a little bit of what scared me.
Sure I'm rambling. Sorry about that. But the movie 'Crash' is still in my brain and reminds me so much of this last incident with the coach. Oy.
I never made the "Crash" connection, and it helps drive your point home. Did you ever have an issue during your college days living in that neighborhood, and how did it change you, if at all?
I always appreciate what you have to say--keep the comments coming.
I had just typed a nice little response, then my girls threw a beanie baby wrapped in a scarf this way, landed on my keyboard and that was the end of that. :)
Living there changed me. Changed me, even though I only lived there for a couple of years. So I often feel badly for people that only have the experience of poverty, violence and drugs. How difficult it must be to grow up in that kind of daily life. Not trying to promote my own blog, but since you asked...here is an entry I wrote weeks ago about living there.
http://rocksandgarbage.blogspot.com/2007/01/there-are-so-many-things-wrong-with.html
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