Getting on a bike for a 26-mile ride across the city and back in the dark to visit a ghost bike installed at a Pasadena intersection installed in Alan Deane’s honor and memory is not about logic. It’s not about common sense. It’s about representing. It’s about recognizing. And in doing so I got a sense from the other cyclists I met up with in Glendale that he was a remarkably resilient and resourceful person who was easily and well liked and is deeply missed.
The city is less a place with Alan Deane no longer in it.