The Thoreau You Don't Know by Robert Sullivan: Schluffing!

Schluffing!

Biking is the best way to go in the city if you are not walking. We at the Thoreau You Don't Know believe strongly in this proposition. Meanwhile, as far as bike etiquette goes, it's tough to stay off the sidewalk even thought the law and courtesy says we ought to. (A friend of the staff recently went to court for a sidewalk bike riding ticket and served some community service time.) Sidewalk bike riding is like jaywalking--who among us cannot resist, once in a while or more. Bikes, like people, are vehicles of compromise. Thus, we draw attention to the schluff, for when you absolutely have to move on the sidewalk and absolutely won't actually "ride."

More on schluffing: an alternate way to use your bike on the sidewalk that is faster than walking and yet is not biking. Intended for short distances only (obviously). What is a schluffing situation? When a biker goes from street biking to sidewalk biking and the bike lane (or bike-favorable street) has ended and the biker still needs to go some distance to his or her front door or destination. Or when the biker just needs to go one block against the direction of traffic and doesn't want to walk. Ideally one would walk, but unfortunately people tend to bike on the sidewalk, which is problematic and illegal and, when there are a lot of people, dangerous and clueless. We present schluffing as an alternative to riding a bike on the sidewalk. We present schluffing as a Third Way, a particular kind of compromise that bikers are great at, as opposed to car drivers, who you would not to see pushing a car down the sidewalk or on the sidewalk at all, pedestrians or not.Schluffing takes advantage of the bike as a scooter-like implement to shorten your trip--and as something that is human-powered and, thus, capable of being NOT used, just walked, walking being human. Brought to you by the staff at The Thoreau You Don't Know, located at http://thethoreauyoudontknow.blogspot.com/ (No pedestrians were injured in the making of this video.)

7 comments:

NYSEASaturday, March 07, 2009
Nice, but there is an alternative that affords just as much control while actually taking up less space on the sidewalk. You can keep atop the bike with thigh and butt on the top tube while striding with one foot on the the ground and the other on the pedal. This technique presents a narrower profile; you and the bike are in a single file, not two abreast. Being off the saddle and on the top tube presents a respectful posture towards pedestrians by conceding that your not actually riding. Then again, try telling that to a cop. Maybe schluffing looks more legal.

- Brody
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AnonymousSunday, March 08, 2009
Hi Robert, just saw you on NY1 and read the Wild Bunch.

I noticed that you didn't make a distinction between commercial and non-commercial bikers. The guys (and I mean guys, it's never a woman) I'm scared of are the bike messengers in Manhattan and the delivery guys here in Queens.

The delivery guys almost always ride on the sidewalks and never use a bell. They just zoom down the sidewalk silently and clip you -- or come damn close to it -- on their way to delivering a pizza. The messengers sometimes ride on the sidewalk, never obey traffic lights and I am sure they try to clip you, especially if you're female.

I think commercial bikers need to indicate what company or restaurant they're working for and their business should be accountable. Maybe commercial bikers should be licensed, I don't know but some sort of training should be mandatory and companies that don't comply should be fined.

In your article you indicate that more people have been killed by cars than bikes, but it seems to me that you could be seriously injured by a bike, too. I live at the bottom of a hill and I'm sure a guy on a bike zooming down the sidewalk could do some serious damage to my 105-pound frame or to a kid.

I appreciate your good intentions, but nothing will change until you get the commercial bikers in line.
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Steve O.Monday, March 16, 2009
More people in NYC are killed each year by cars _on the sidewalk_ (about a dozen) than by bikes (less than one).
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AnonymousWednesday, March 18, 2009
please stop writing about cycling in nyc, you are doing us more harm than good. this is just idiotic, i guess if i give running a red light a cutesy name it will be ok.
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AnonymousWednesday, March 18, 2009
Stop saying bikers. It's cyclists. Get it right if you're going to criticize.
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AnonymousThursday, March 19, 2009
how fast can you go, then switch to Schluffing? 20mph?
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UnknownThursday, April 16, 2009
How about staying off the sidewalk?
I bike most places I go.
I never have that problem. I stay out in the street where bikes belong.
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Available now from Robert Sullivan, the New York Times best selling author, and published by Harper. A description from the publisher:

What if Henry David Thoreau—America’s pioneering nature lover, the man who famously lived in a little house of his own construction—was actually pro-city rather than just a monkish introvert who wanted to be left alone in the woods? What if the man we think of as so serious and introspective was really a joker, a bit of clown, a kind of stand-up comic in his day? And what if the fact that he often went home to his family or into town for supper didn’t show him to be a cheater or a fraud as far as self-reliance goes? What if spending time with his friends and family—i.e., community—was his point all along?

Reasons that Thoreau is maybe more applicable to these troubling times than you may imagine

¶ He was living not in a peaceful time where he could just sit there and look at a pond but at a time of financial crisis, panics, even, when unemployment was first being recognized as a crisis, when people began to think that the economic system was broken—to wit, there were unemployed workers often living at Walden Pond.
¶ He was not just writing about butterflies (though he uses one to excellent, redemptive effect at Walden's end) but about how work was taking over our lives, how play was disappearing, how things like conversation were disappearing, along with sympathy, empathy and gratitude.
¶ He was very interested in gadgets, being an engineer himself--no technophobe--and living at a time of intense technological excitement.
¶ He was big on tunes, as in music, as in having a playlist, though in those days it was called a repertoire—he played a mean flute.

A Review

A mischievous reporter on the universe, Sullivan has found beauty in a notorious swamp in The Meadowlands (1998) and wisdom in an alley in Rats (2004). In his latest slyly philosophical inquiry, he endeavors to free Henry David Thoreau from his calcified reputation as a cantankerous hermit and nature worshipper. Sounding like your favorite teacher who manages to make history fun and relevant, Sullivan vibrantly portrays the sage of Walden as a geeky, curious, compassionate fellow of high intelligence and deep feelings who loved company, music, and long walks. An exceptional writer mad for puns, Thoreau
was also a bold social critic and—the crux of Sullivan’s stimulating argument—a brilliant, tongue-incheek
humorist. Sullivan, himself plenty saucy, also elucidates Thoreau’s radical focus on “man’s
interaction with nature.” In command of a great diversity of fascinating material, Sullivan succinctly illuminates the striking parallels between Thoreau’s time and ours—foreclosures, lost jobs, and rapid technological change. Thoreau remains vital and valuable because of his acute observations, wit, and lyricism and his recognition that the “force of life is everywhere,” a perception even more essential now that the consequences of the societal choices Thoreau prophetically critiqued have reached staggering proportions.--Donna Seaman, in Booklist

More from the publisher:
Henry David Thoreau is one of those authors that readers think you know, even if they don’t. He’s the solitary curmudgeon with the shack out in the woods, the mystic worshipping solemnly in the quiet church of nature. He’s our national Natural Man, the prophet of environmentalism. But here Robert Sullivan—who himself has been called an “urban Thoreau” (New York Times Book Review) presents the Thoreau you don’t know: the activist, the organizer, the gregarious adventurer, the guy who likes to go camping with friends (even if they sometimes accidentally burn the woods down). Sullivan argues that Walden was a book intended to revive America, a communal work forever pigeonholed as a reclusive one, and that this misreading is at the heart of our troubled relationship with the environment today. Sullivan shows us not a lonely eccentric but a man in his growing village, a man who danced and sang, who worked throughout his short life at the family pencil-making business, and moved into his parents’ house after leaving Walden Pond, but always paid his father rent. Passionate yet whimsical, The Thoreau You Don’t Know asks us to re-examine our everyday relationship with the natural world, and one another.