Contrary to common myth, not all advocacy websites want to discuss the plight of humanity’s inability to catch up with itself, despite my last two Streetsblog stories serving as Example A and Example B of why that myth may have some validity.
Though the heroine of our tale, Cali Bike Tour’s fighting’-for-North-Long-Beach cyclist guru Elizabeth Williams, remains rightfully “violated and pissed,” there is a much more larger picture that momentarily distracts from the ugly part: the SoCal biking community protects their own.
Let’s start with that ugly part.
It was Veteran’s Day, this past November 11, when Elizabeth—the bubbly, self-identified Jesus Chick with the lollipop pedals—partook in the day we all wish we could say was our own everyday: she spent an hour on the Bluff doing free yoga (for those who are curious, click here), spent a few hours with fellow cyclist Nicole Vick to work on her League Cycling Instructor’s certification (one should always know how to handle road hazards), and even swooped by a newsstand so she could see her ad debut with the Port of Long Beach inside the local Press-Telegram paper (wow, Long Beach finally succeeded in having a person of color represented in pro-biking advertisements).
To say that bicycling isn’t Elizabeth’s life—both financially and spiritually—is the equivalent of calling Long Beach Orange County. It’s just… It’s just wrong.
And even more wrong—whether you want to refer to it as some cosmological alignment of bad fate or simple coincidence, it still remains wrong—is the fact that someone decided her bike was, well, theirs. Right off the back rack on her car outside a GameStop in the middle of the afternoon, someone (and I would venture to say this someone is about as worthy of a human as Michael Vick) jacked Elizabeth’s Trek 1600 within the 20 minutes she spent grabbing some household needs.
Anger was the main sentiment exuded by Elizabeth: after running through downtown, from the library to the Transit Mall, asking patrons sitting right outside, approaching a security officer, dealing with shoulder-shrugging police, and overall receiving a “Shit happens” attitude, Elizabeth went home crying.
“Some don’t understand that for a lotta people, their bike is their life,” Elizabeth said shortly after the incident. “This isn’t just my weekend fun—my bike is my business, my livelihood, and my passion. It’s a tool that I use to help others. And the fact that someone took something from me, something that I held dear… I felt so violated.”
Feeling like the police—even after meeting with the LBPD a few months ago to discuss how the police and bicyclists should build a stronger relationship—were less than helpful, Elizabeth took to her friends and social media.
Yell it and they will share.
And soon enough, Elizabeth saw “an awesome demonstration” of the biking community’s strength in sharing her fight to find her bike.