I didn't have to imagine anything, but
I had plenty of warning and plenty of time to prepare. I charged each
and every one of my 12v Ryobi batteries so I could finally use the
cheesy flashlights that come in the starter kits. I topped off three
scooter batteries on a charger so my wife and I would be able to
charge our cell phones when the power went out. Aided by a friend
holding the ladder, I cleaned my gutters. I bought shelf-stable food
and gallons of water. I gassed up the car – and once I discovered
my street wasn't on the city's mandatory evacuation list, I left it
at my office garage four miles away where it would be safe from
falling tree limbs.
Of course, I also got an Aftermath Bike
ready. Having donated the last one to Domus, I slightly modified the
DiamondSchwinn to it would be Sandy-ready.
In the back, I added the metal wire
baskets that came from the Raleigh Sports (what else would I have
done with them?). In the front I added an old Cannondale bag to put
tire-changing and inflating tools in. A fender that came from an old
green Columbia frame that contributed to my now-famous DIYBIKING.COM Signature Coffee Table also went on the front. The whole bike was
pretty heavy, but it has a ready-for-anything feel to it, and looked
rather post-apocalyptic.
The storm arrived slowly, and close to
high tide on Monday I walked four blocks to West Beach and walked on
the path over the breakwater so I could see the tide coming in. In my
rubber welding boots, I trudged through a few inches of water that
had already settled on the parking lot to the edge of the beach.
As the afternoon wore on, the wind got
worse and the rain started. Lights began flickering around four. My
wife and I pushed our luck by making dinner, and not twenty minutes
after we were finished, the power winked out at 6:18pm. In minutes,
the house had the warm glow of a few candles and some bright
flashlights.
Being able to charge the phones meant
we could tune in to Facebook more often to see pictures of
waterskiing cats and the like, but also see that the governor of
Connecticut, Dannel Malloy, was giving an address at 9:15. We tuned
in to the little solar power and hand crank radio, and understood
that we should stay in our homes but listen to local evacuation
orders. The wind was pretty loud and slightly shaking the house at
this point, but we pretty much shrugged. Our place was built 15 years
before the Hurricane of '38 and, confident it would stay standing, we
headed off to bed.
And hour later, the police showed up in
the neighborhood, flashing lights and loudspeakers, indicating we
were under a mandatory evacuation order as they feared the high tide
at midnight would breach the breakwater. I thought a moment and
decided it would be incredibly stupid to head outside in the middle
of a hurricane to flag down a radio car and get a ride to a shelter
we'd be unable to leave when we wanted (we found out minutes later,
online, that the shelter the police intended to take us to had closed
since it had reached capacity). Choosing the 'mildly idiotic' option,
we ignored the evacuation order.
I was confident the breakwater wouldn't
be breached – but peeked out the front door from time to time to
see if Long Island Sound was creeping up the road. I also headed into
the basement with a flashlight to make sure there was no water there,
and there wasn't.
It was mostly a sleepless night, but
around 4:00am, the wind finally began to stop. While waiting for the
sun to come up, I made coffee. Now I know I've advised in the Essential Guide to Surviving Hurricane Irene that you need to keep
Starbucks Via in the house in the event of a power outage, but if you
have a gas stove and the gas line is still functional, you can boil
water. And if you have a drip coffeemaker, you can open the top and
slowly pour in the hot water. As you may have guessed, I had Fairway
grind the beans for me this time.
When I had my fill of coffee and
pan-warmed bread, I hopped on the DiamondSchwinn and headed to West
Beach. The debris line was only about two feet up the breakwater. I
let out a 'whew' even though I was still struck by the amount of
damage.
What makes that picture interesting is
that just a few weeks earlier I had taken a picture near the same
spot of a bike I had just bought at a tag sale: it was a vintage
Schwinn Worldsport. It was in great shape but I added $50 in tires
since the ones it was on were rotted from disuse. It was such a nice
bike I almost didn't want to get rid of it...but here it is leaning
against a park bench that is either broken apart or trapped under the
foot of sand covering the West Beach parking lot at this very moment.
That bike is hanging in my basement
right now even though I wish it was in Brooklyn where it's needed.
For my non-east coast readers, Brooklyn and all of New York City was
hit badly, with public transportation severely crippled and pushing
more cars on the road, making a bad situation even worse.
Mayor Bloomberg even forced a
three-passenger minimum for some of the bridges because the gridlock
was just too much.
Now I had tried to deal with the
problem weeks before it occurred by bringing the Schwinn to Brooklyn
so I could sell it. A bike shop that had expressed interest earlier
in the fall had now given me a lowball offer (that wouldn't cover
what I put in to the bike) so I decided to see if the people of
Brooklyn would do better. However, I needed a way to advertise the
bike the day I was in Brooklyn and also have a way to get back if I
sold it – so I couldn't ride the Schwinn. However, a very slight
modification to the Mystery of South Norwalk solved my problem.
A Thule fork clamp I bought for $1 at a
tag sale over the summer bolted to the seat stays. That's all this
is. No other modifications. When I attached the Schwinn, I got this.
As you can see, South Norwalk's low and
unusually sized rear tire comes in useful since the Schwinn looks
almost perfectly positioned. There's just enough room for me to sit
on the little folder without the handlebars of the towed bike to
interfere. I priced the bike competitively, attached my 'For Sale' sign, tied the front tire of the
Schwinn to the frame, and pedaled around Brooklyn.
Seven miles, I went. I tried selling it
to women hailing cabs. I pitched it to a group of men talking on a
corner (one wanted to buy South Norwalk; and of course that was no
deal). A guy outside a bike shop looked at it very closely but
decided he didn't want it.
I have the feeling that if I were to
return to Brooklyn with the Schwinn, I'd return to Stamford without
it. I could even try my luck, here. A lot of gas stations lost
electricity (some have taken to siphoning gas out of the tanks to
fill red cans so people can run their generators) and when I took a
bike ride this morning, I saw gas lines.
That ride this morning also showed me
that four days after the storm, there were not only still a lot of
people still without power, but a lot of things in places where
things should not be.
Just like looking at pictures of cars
seemingly welded together on bridges going into Manhattan changed my
perspective on the Schwinn Worldsport, this morning's ride – which
was to Caffeine in South Norwalk and back again on the Aftermath Bike
– changed my perspective on perspective. I heard generators
everywhere. Saw black hoses still snaking out of basement windows.
Dumpster after Dumpster after Dumpster parked in front of houses that
weren't protected by a breakwater. Some of my favorite markets and
shops are still closed, while others (like Espresso Neat and Nicholas Roberts' wine shop) are open, but in darkness and 'cash only'
transactions. I've also heard from Domus that a lot of families aretaking a financial hit from the storm (having to throw out a
refridgerator full of food and buy flashlight batteries just as you've
saved money to go holiday shopping isn't fun).
So I urge you to avoid the gas lines
and ride a bike to help a neighbor or buy something from a local
business this weekend. Also: sell a bike to someone in New York City
and resist the urge to price-gouge. Thanks for riding and thanks for
reading.
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