I’m headed in no particular direction. Crosswalk signals choose the path for me. Which will turn green first? The breeze is blistery cold, not quite January-cold, but still cold, nonetheless. I secretly hope that Dippy the Dinosaur on the corner block is wearing a winter scarf.
Across the street from the museum, a ghost bike is chained to the pole. This isn’t the first memorial that I’ve seen in my life, but the only one that I’ve noticed during my academic tenure on campus. A white bicycle such as this one marks the spot where a cyclist died, so wear your somber hat and reflect on the tragedy. The memorial also serves as a public statement, rather a question, regarding a cyclist’s right to safe travel.
Are you wondering about your city? Check out the official Ghost Bikes site to find support for the program within your own hometown.