Bryce Lewis Memorial Ride
I joined about fifty other cyclists this afternoon on a bike ride to remember Bryce Lewis, the 19-year old kid who was killed in September by a right-turning dump truck at an intersection just south of the University Bridge.
It was a somber—but not overly solemn—procession that wended its way from Cal Anderson Park down Broadway on Capital Hill, then up to Volunteer Park, before cruising down Tenth Street to the site of the accident. There, we gathered at the makeshift memorial, which featured a number of pieces of Bryce’s artwork, for a few heartfelt words from his stepfather, who brought tears to all our eyes as he recalled his stepson and the promise of Bryce’s young life cut short way too soon.
The weather was ideal, partly sunny and mild, with a tailwind all the way, as if the gods themselves were blessing our remembrance, too. We rode fairly slowly, taking up the entire road and corking intersections as needed to keep the group together, but even in what seems to be an increasingly hostile environment between cyclists and drivers, no one yelled at us or really laid on their horns for blocking their way.
I was impressed with the organization of the event, pulled together by Foo, one of the guys who sometimes rides with .83 and it made me feel like my little bike gang is more than just a bunch of two-wheeled drunks (but that too); it’s almost like belonging to the Shriners or something, one of those fraternal organizations who along with a reasonable amount of alcohol abuse, also do good things in the world, like raising money to help crippled kids walk.
From the accident site, we rode across the University Bridge to the UW campus, where, I understand, Bryce and his friend Caleb were heading on that fateful day. We got to finish the ride that Bryce didn’t, but he was with all of us as we pedaled on.
It was a somber—but not overly solemn—procession that wended its way from Cal Anderson Park down Broadway on Capital Hill, then up to Volunteer Park, before cruising down Tenth Street to the site of the accident. There, we gathered at the makeshift memorial, which featured a number of pieces of Bryce’s artwork, for a few heartfelt words from his stepfather, who brought tears to all our eyes as he recalled his stepson and the promise of Bryce’s young life cut short way too soon.
The weather was ideal, partly sunny and mild, with a tailwind all the way, as if the gods themselves were blessing our remembrance, too. We rode fairly slowly, taking up the entire road and corking intersections as needed to keep the group together, but even in what seems to be an increasingly hostile environment between cyclists and drivers, no one yelled at us or really laid on their horns for blocking their way.
I was impressed with the organization of the event, pulled together by Foo, one of the guys who sometimes rides with .83 and it made me feel like my little bike gang is more than just a bunch of two-wheeled drunks (but that too); it’s almost like belonging to the Shriners or something, one of those fraternal organizations who along with a reasonable amount of alcohol abuse, also do good things in the world, like raising money to help crippled kids walk.
From the accident site, we rode across the University Bridge to the UW campus, where, I understand, Bryce and his friend Caleb were heading on that fateful day. We got to finish the ride that Bryce didn’t, but he was with all of us as we pedaled on.
posted by Professor Dave at 4:21 PM
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