Whenever Patty Kruszewski drove by the ghost bike on River Road in Richmond, Virginia, she could feel the spirit of her late daughter looking on. But that all changed when a nearby homeowner removed the memorial from a public right-of-way earlier this month.

A hit-and-run driver struck and killed Lanie Kruszewski in July 2012, as the 24-year-old biked from her restaurant job to her boyfriend’s house. Less than 24 hours later, a ghost bike was placed at the scene of the crash, and in the years since it has served as both a memorial and a somber reminder to the community to drive safely.



“I’ve met many people who told me, unprompted, that they say prayers, talk to their kids, or just pause and think of our family” when they pass the bike, Kruszewski said. “Parents tell me they use the bike as a teaching tool and talking point, reminding their kids of the dangers of distracted and unsafe driving.” (The driver who killed Lanie—sentenced to three years in prison in 2013 after turning himself in—testified that he did not realize he had hit someone at the time of the collision.)

Ghost bikes are bicycles spray painted white and placed near the scene of a cyclist’s death, serving as makeshift memorials. Genea Barnes, author of Ghost Bikes: A Photographic Memorial, said most bikes only stay up for a matter of months before they’re taken down.

But sometimes, like in the case of Lanie Kruszewski, they stand the test of time. Lanie’s boyfriend, Daniel Pritchett, would keep an eye on the tribute, making sure the surrounding area stayed clean and even repainting the bike after it was vandalized with yellow paint.

“She loved being outdoors, especially in summer, and frequently turned down rides home from work,” Kruszewski said. “She turned down a ride the night she was killed, saying, ‘No, thanks, it’s a nice night; I’d rather ride my bike.’”

Lanie Kruszewski’s ghost bike went up less than a day after the hit-and-run that took her life. It was placed anonymously, without permits. Daniel Pritchett

David Pangraze never knew Lanie, but since buying a property adjacent to the crash site in 2016, he’s known the bike. For more than two years as he built a house on the property, he tried to have the memorial taken down or replaced, but to no avail.

“I believe the bike to be a traffic hazard as drivers can be easily distracted by seeing a bike suddenly on the right side with no breakdown or biking lane present,” Pangraze wrote in an email to Richmond officials last year, asking for the bike to be removed. The city declined, according to the Richmond Times-Dispatch.



Though the bike wasn’t on his property, Pangraze emailed Kruszewski earlier this month, telling her that he was doing landscaping work nearby and planned on removing the bike. By the time Kruszewski arrived at the site, the bike was already gone. She said Pangraze has since reached out to negotiate, but that she and her family will refuse until he returns the bike to the spot. (Pangraze didn’t respond to repeated requests for comment.)

The family contacted local police, but because the bike didn’t technically belong to anyone, reporting a theft was not an option. According to Steve Magas, a cycling attorney based in Cincinnati, the only real way to resolve the dispute is by settling it person to person.

“The best approach is to negotiate a deal,” Magas said. “Let [Pangraze] see the pain up close.” Magas recalled a case where after a cyclist was killed in Ohio, local advocates put up a ghost bike for a year, then negotiated with the property owner for a smaller memorial.

Lanie Kruszewski Facebook

Pangraze and the Kruszewskis briefly discussed a different memento last year, but the family rejected his suggestion for a smaller sign, as they don’t believe it would have the same impact as the ghost bike.

“When I told people that Pangraze wanted to replace the bike with a sign, they all said a sign would not be the same,” Kruszewski said. “The bike stood out against the sameness and the monotony of that stretch of road, making it noticeable in a way that a sign would not be.”

Because the bike was placed at the intersection anonymously, no city permit was asked for or given. Yet the bike was allowed to remain “due to the sensitive nature” of the situation, Jakob Helmboldt, Richmond’s pedestrian, bicycle, and trails coordinator, wrote in a letter to Pangraze.

Kruszewski hopes to replace the bike in the near future with proper permits, but it may require a bit more legwork this time around. The city doesn’t have a specific ordinance in place for ghost bikes, so the family will have to either get an exemption or seek an ordinance change to allow it.

“I blow kisses to the ghost bike when I pass, and a friend of Lanie wrote me to say she does the same,” Kruszewski said. “It’s a piece of Lanie, and something that helps those of who miss her feel closer to her.”

Robert Annis After spending nearly a decade as a reporter for The Indianapolis Star, Robert Annis finally broke free of the shackles of gainful employment and now freelances full time, specializing in cycling and outdoor-travel journalism. Over the years, Robert's byline has appeared in numerous publications and websites, including Outside, National Geographic Traveler, Afar, Bicycling, Men's Journal, Popular Mechanics, Lonely Planet, the Chicago Tribune, and Adventure.com

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