The Persistence Of Riding

What if Salvador Dali were to design a bicycle?

To The Beach, Gently Weeping

Tomorrow is supposed to be more like an early-spring day in Belgium or the Netherlands than an early July (i.e., The Fourth) in the US.  Not that I mind, particularly.  But today was beautiful:  a clear sky and a high temperature of about 26C (80F) with little humidity and a moderate breeze.  

I had a few things to do today but I was able to get on the bike by two in the afternoon.  Given that we are just past the longest day (in terms of the length of daylight) of the year, I figured I'd still have enough time to ride to Point Lookout and back before dark--especially if I rode Arielle.

Which is what I did.  Even though I pedaled into the breeze (which turned into a veritable wind by the time I got to Broad Channel), I made one of my better times going out there--and, of course, had an even faster ride back.  Without pushing myself and with a stop at Point Lookout to ponder and soak up sun and salt air--and consume a packet of Welch's Fruit Snacks (Cherries 'n' Berries) with a bottle of seltzer water--I still managed to get home more than an hour before sunset.  (If I were Jewish, I could've been lighting my Shabbos candles!)

Even though my logical mind told me not to go anywhere near a beach, I did.  I saw the traffic I expected.  Notice I said "I saw".  I structured my ride so I didn't have to spend much of it pedaling alongside rows of SUVs with cranky drivers and their spouses screaming at their screaming kids--or each other.  And those vehicles went to the places I expected:  Rockaway Park, Rockaway Beach, Atlantic Beach, Long Beach and Lido Beach.  I also expected to see some of those vehicles and crabby kids at Point Lookout, which is right across from Jones Beach, one of the most popular summer seaside spots in this area.

But I saw this:

That tree, or whatever it is, always looks the same, no matter the time of day or year.  I've asked a couple of people what kind of tree it is and how it got there; no one seems to know.  Next time I see a Parks Service employee, I'll ask.

Somehow it fits into my  "While His Fixie Gently Weeps" post-- or the spirit of Salvador Dali that helped to inspire it.  While a bare tree/Gently weeps.

Now I'll show you someone who gently weeps:

At least, that's what she did when I walked by.  She and the window are across the street from where I live.  I passed them after I got home, returned Arielle to The Family and went to the store.  

She gave a soft, rather forlorn, meow.  I think she knew she was looking at a friend but we couldn't get any closer than we were.  Perhaps one day...

While His Fixie Gently Weeps

Sometimes I think that if Salvador Dali had composed music, it would’ve sounded something like the tune to  “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”.

Now, if he’d designed bicycles it would have been interesting, to say the least. While going to the store, I think I saw an example of what might’ve resulted:

For one thing, I was intrigued that this bike came from Biria, a company that’s been known—at least in the US—mainly for city bikes with upright bars.  Perhaps if Biria’s focus is indeed urban bikes, this model makes sense.  After all, I don’t think very many people in small towns in Wyoming or West Virginia are going to ride a bike like that.

Another thing that caught my attention is how close the rear tire comes to the seat tube:

And that’s with the wheel all the way back in the dropout:

What’s even more interesting is that other attempts to shorten the wheelbase (or, at any rate, the rear part of it) have included curving the seat tube, as on this KHS bike from the mid-90’s:

 

And Schwinn, in the mid-70s, offered a bike called the Sprint with a similar seat tube.  Like many other Schwinns of that era, it was an extremely strange bike:  Save for the curved seat tube and the short (at least relatively) wheelbase, it was no different from the Continental.  At least the KHS was based on something that bore some semblance to a track bike.

 

Then there was the Rigi, made in Italy during the early 1980’s.  I never owned, but I had a couple of opportunities to ride, one.  It certainly lived up to its name:  I can recall few, if any, other bikes that were more rigid and transferred power to the rear wheel as much as that bike did.

 

I would be really curious to find out what effect, if any, the curved top and down tubes have on the ride of the Biria I saw today.  Whatever its ride, I don’t think its rider has to worry about stopping power:  It has a coaster brake on the rear wheel and a caliper brake for each wheel!

The Persistence Of Dropped Top Tubes

What if Salvador Dali were hired to design a bike frame--and he only did the top tube?

The result might look something like this:

I had never before seen such a frame sporting Bianchi logos.  But now that I think of it, I'm not surprised.  The Bianchi in the photo was made in Japan for Bianchi during the 1980's.  Back then, the most famous Italian bicycle manufacturer was rebranding bikes built by Panasonic, Bridgestone and, it was rumoried, Miyata, for the US market.

When you look at this Panasonic closely, you realize why Bianchi made such a move.  During the 1970's and early 1980's, Japanese makers like the ones I've mentioned, and Fuji and Nishiki, took over much of the entry- and mid-level market for road and touring bikes in the US. There were good reasons for that:  The Japanese companies were offering better bikes for the money than most of their  European and American rivals.  Their quality control was more consistent:  Highland Park Cyclery sold Miyata and Panasonic when I worked there, and I don't recall having to return one for a defect.  On the other hand, I saw braze-ons break off a Peugeot and Treks that had miscut threads and wheels that didn't hold up for very long.  

Perhaps the biggest "draw" of Japanese bikes was that their drivetrains usually shifted more accurately and (a major selling point with new cyclists) more easily than those on their European counterparts.  The Panasonic in the second photo was the lowest-level ten-speed bike the company offered at the time, but its Shimano derailleur outshifted all but the very top models made in Europe at the time.  The BIanchi is a few levels up from the Panasonic, and its Shimano gears were more accurate and less fussy, I would submit, than any others--except for the ones made by Sun Tour.  

Of course, BIanchi would not be the only company to re-brand Japanese bikes for sale in the US.  Some of the most famous examples of such bikes were the "Voyageur" and "LeTour" lines Schwinn sold; Raleigh, Peugeot and other companies would also offer bikes from the Land of the Rising Sun.  Other companies, like Motobecane, would continue to make bikes in their home countries but equip them with Japanese derailleurs, freewheels and cranksets--and, later, other components--for American cyclists.

But not all of those companies offered bikes with the frame design of the BIanchi and Panasonic you see in this post.  In fact, frames with top tubes so shaped were made for only a few years, or so it seemed.  A couple of years ago, Trek revived  a modified version of it on their "Belleville" city/porteur bike:

I have never ridden a bike with such a configuration, but I can see the benefit of it, particularly for cyclists with disproportionately short legs.  I would think that people who, for other reasons, want a frame that offers more clearance than the traditional diamond design but don't want something more rigid or stable than a traditional women's, or even a mixte, frame would also like such a design.


Here's what I always wondered:  If you buy one of those bikes, do you get a watch with it?  Or a bike computer:  Imagine if Salvador Dali designed those!