Derailleurs are great.
Well, most of the time--for me, anyway. With the exception of Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, my other "fun" bikes have derailleurs on them. Cyclists have been using them for nearly a century; in that time, derailleur-equipped bikes have gone from having two cogs to eleven on the rear wheel. (When I first became a dedicated cyclists, five in the rear was normal; six-speed freewheels were new and exotic
I think 8 rear gears is the "sweet spot" where a wide range of gear options intersects with relative durability and un-fussy shifting; 9 gears--which I use--sacrifices a bit of chain life but greater availability of cassettes across a wider selection of gear ratios and price ranges.
Aside from Tosca, I have one other derailleur-less bike: my commuter/"beater", which has a single-speed freewheel. Most commuters here in New York don't have to negotiate many, if any, hills. I myself make one climb of any significance on my way to work in the Bronx.
Now, if you don't have to ride hills or are very young or strong, a single-speed bike is a great option if you want to do as little maintenance as possible. If you're really young and strong, or a messenger, (I was all of those.)you might even like a fixed-gear single-speed. (At times, I have commuted on a fixed-gear and, as I've mentioned in other posts, I've been a messenger.) But if you're not-so-young or athletic, live in a hilly area or simply want to sweat as little as possible, you might prefer a variable-gear bike.
If you want variable gears but don't want to use derailleur, you only other option--at least, if you live here in the US--is an internally-geared hub. The most familiar kind is the classic three-speed. Sturmey-Archer made several models, but by far the most popular (or at least common) was their AW, which came on the Raleigh, Dunelt, Robin Hood and other English bikes. Shimano, Sachs and a few other companies also made them; the one marketed by SunTour during the 1960's and early '70'd has long been rumored to be a re-badged Sturmey-Archer.
The problems with those hubs are that they don't offer a wide variety of gears, the spacing between gears is less-than-optimal and, with the exception of the old (pre-1975 or thereabouts) Sturmey-Archer models, they tend to wear out quickly. Moreover, they don't transmit power (turn your pedal strokes into wheel revolutions) very efficently and weigh significantly more than a hub with a cassette or freewheel combined with derailleurs.
Worst of all, if riders neglect (as most do) even the minimal maintenance internally-geared hubs require, they can fall to the ravages of rain, wind and other elements almost as easily as the exposed parts of a derailleur.
For some time, European commuters and utility cyclists have had another option: a gear box.
The German-made Pinion gear box is a standard feature on about 90 different bike models sold in Europe. It is a rarity in the US, but that could change: The company is opening an office in Denver in conjunction with Gates, the manufacturer of the Carbon Drive System.
Think of Pinion as an internally-geared hub on your bottom bracket: The box contains a set of epicyclic gears, like the ones inside the hub, in an oil bath. But, unlike the hubs, which had oil caps on their shells, Pinion requires an oil change every 10000 km or so. The good news is that Pinions appear to be more hermetically sealed than internally-geared hubs, so the lubrication is less prone to contamination and, one assumes, runs more smoothly.
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The main downside to Pinion is, apart from its weight, the fact that it can be installed only on a Pinion-specific frame. For some, that limitation is counter-balanced by its greatly reduced maintenance, ease of shifting and the fact that it's available in a number of gear configurations, with 6,9,12 or 18 gears in a range from 295 to 636 percent. This means a wider range of gears, with narrower steps in between, than is possible in an internally-geared hub. It's also available with a die-cast magnesium gear box, which cuts the weight somewhat, in addition to standard aluminum model.
In Rome, I haven't seen as many cyclists as I have in, say, Paris, New York or even Firenze (Florence). That means, of course, that I haven't seen as many interesting or unusual old bikes parked on the streets.
I have seen some people ride bikes with the legendary names of Itaian--and European--cycling on them. I am thinking of Mosers, Viners, and others known for classic racing machines (and victories in the great races). Take away the decals or transfers, and some of those bikes would look like those aluminum things with toothpaste welds and flashy paint.
But there seem to be a few bright spots, even as the world shifts to aluminum and carbon fiber
"Adriatica" seems to be doing in Italy what Linus is doing in the US: offering practical yet vintage-inspired bikes in steel. I saw this one in a shop near my hotel.
All right. Because you've all been such good readers, and I've been to a bike show, I'm going to treat you to some "bike porn." However, I'm going to show you some important but not-so-flashy stuff first.
In an earlier post, I started to talk about some of the ways in which this year's New Amsterdam Bike Show was different from shows I attended in days gone by. I mentioned the emphasis on utilitarian bikes. As much as I love to ride for sport and recreation, I'm glad that some bikemakers are actually seeing, and selling, their wares as alternatives to cars.
In that regard, the bikes that impressed me the most are those from Yuba Bicycles. They're probably the nearest two-wheeled equivalent to pickup trucks and vans. The bikes are actually equipped with a "flatbed" in the rear. Onto it one can attach seats, oversized panniers and even shelves. I've been told that these bicycles have been used to move the entire contents of apartments and houses, not to mention surfboards, stereo systems and such.
Yuba bikes must be seen to be believed. These bikes are not for anyone who has even the slightest pretense of being a racer. The wheelbase of a Yuba is nearly four times as long as that of Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike!
The spiritual grandparent, if you will, of Yuba might be Worksman Cycles, who still make their machines in Ozone Park, Queens--just a few miles from my apartment. I've mentioned Worksman in a previous post, and meeting Bruce Weinreb, the company's Director for Custom Programs and Special Markets,only deepened my respect for their products, and for the company itself. Their industrial bikes are used all over the world, and countless pizzas have been delivered on their bikes. They can be great alternatives to cars and trucks, if for no other reason than they usually outlast, often by decades, their gas-guzzling counterparts.
They also make tricycles. I see at least a couple every time I go to Florida. However, they're not only for those who can no longer (or never could) ride two wheels: The space between the two rear wheels is all but ideal for baskets, bags and other ways of hauling cargo. They also make a Special Edition: the model you see in the photo. Ten percent of the purchase price of each of those bicycles is donated to the Wounded Warrior Project.
Gazelle, which has long been noted for its city bikes with internally-geared hubs, is also making a bike out of recycled materials. A lighting system is built into the bike: The headlight is found where a head badge would normally be installed, and the tail light is under the seat. Both are solar-powered, and are said to store more power--and use it more efficiently--than earlier solar-powered bicycle lights.
Another utility bike I saw at the show has a lineage almost as long as that of Worksman or Gazelle bicycles. Actually, I first encountered it two nights before the show, in Tribeca's Adeline! Adeline!, where I attended a party intended to launch Bobbin, a British maker of city and transport bikes, in the USA.
At first glance, most people would think it's a folding bike or, if they're more knowledgeable about bikes, a replica of an early Moulton. However, there's no way to fold the bike, and about the only thing this bike has in common with the Moulton is its small wheel size. It's what's known in Albion as a "shopper." People ride them to marketplaces because their low profile makes them easy to mount and dismount when they're loaded, and easy to maneuver through the narrow aisles and crowds of people in marketplaces.
All right, now that you've stayed with this post, I'm going to deliver on what I promised. First off is a Horse track bicycle. Check out the lugwork and paint:
Here's one of their touring bikes:
And how can you not love a trussed frame like this one from Benjamin Cycles?:
Benjamin and Horse are both based in Brooklyn, NY. Could we see the day when a model called "Greenpoint" or "Bensonhurst" has the same cachet as one called "l'Alpe d'Huez" or "Stelvio"?
Today I did something I haven't done in nearly three decades: I attended a bike show. Specifically, I went to the New Amsterdam bike show in SoHo.
Naturally, I found myself making comparisons to the last show I attended, seemingly a lifetime ago. That one was held, as the New York Bike Shows were for two decades, in one of the most unloved major buildings in the history of this city: the New York Coliseum at Columbus Circle. It was one of those boxy "International" style buildings constructed during the 1950's as part of one of the most cynical and duplicitous pieces of urban planning in the history of American cities, courtesy of Robert Moses.
On the other hand, this year's New Amsterdam Bike Show was held in Skylight Soho, a renovated loft building that is part of a neighborhood that, around the same time the Coliseum was built, was nearly bulldozed for another one of Moses' schemes: a cross-Manhattan expressway that would have connected the Holland Tunnel with the Manhattan, Brooklyn and Williamsburg Bridges. It was one of his few ideas that, fortunately, never came into fruition.
All right, so you're not reading this blog for history lessons and half-baked ideas about architecture. So I'll talk about some of the differences between the two shows, and how I was a different person at the time of each of them.
At the old bike show, the emphasis was on racing and touring bikes. Mountain bikes were new; I think there was an exhibit or two of them. But I don't recall any displays of utility or transportation bikes, which seemed to comprise the majority of bikes I saw at today's show.
Also, most of the companies that displayed at the old show were the "old school" names of the industry. While a few American framebuilders and manufacturers exhibited, the majority of those who set up at the show were from Europe or Japan.
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On the other hand, most of the companies that showed their wares today were from North America: mainly from the East and West coasts of the United States. There were quite a few frame builders, a few manufacturers of bikes and even more smaller operations that made everything from purselike bags that attach to handlebars and racks to reflective clothing that looks just like stuff someone might wear to an art opening. I'll talk more about some of those products in a future post. While I liked some ideas and products better than others, I was glad to see all of those (mostly) young artisans, manufacturers and entrepreneurs: The stuff they're making might entice someone to ride his or her bike instead of a car to work or shop, or might entice someone else to ride a bike, period. In contrast, most of the stuff at the old show had been made for decades and, through all of that time, was liked and disliked by the same people for the same reasons, and would entice no one into cycling for sport or recreation.
I mentioned that most of the people with interesting new ideas and products are young or youngish. This is another departure from the old bike show, in which many of the companies were represented by the patriarchs of the families who started and owned them. And, yes, all of them were male.
In fact, the only females I saw at the show back in the day were the wives, girlfriends and daughters of the men who exhibited or attended. I take that back: One bike company had a group of young women in lycra (which was new in those days) and high heels pedaling their bikes on a trainer.
In other words, the women were props and accessories. I was neither. Now there were female artisans, entrepreneurs and sales representatives. And I got to speak with one author. I hope to be an author. I can hope for that.
Another difference between then and now is one that has to do with circumstances of my own life. When I attended all of those years ago, I went with some guys with whom I worked in the bike shop, the owner, his wife and some of his friends. I had known them for several years, but now I haven't been in touch with any of them for at least two decades. Today I went to the New Amsterdam show with someone I had not met until the other day. However, I have corresponded with this person for nearly three years. I'll tell you more about that in a future post.
At the old show, I didn't meet anyone I already knew. At today's show, I saw Charlie from Bicycle Habitat (who had an exhibit) as well as owners and employees of other bikes shops whom I knew at least in passing. Plus, I met someone I hadn't seen in about a dozen or so years. She has been a sales rep for one of the few big bike manufacturers I saw at today's show. The last shop in which I worked sold those bikes, so she was in the shop pretty frequently.
What did I say to her? "My, you've changed!" All right, that was a joke. In reality, I passed by her table a couple of times before we caught each others' glances. In a split-second, I did an FBI-style age-progression image in my mind and realized I was looking at an older version of the rep I knew all of those years ago. Then she took a longer look at me. "Should I know you from some place?"
The real question wasn't whether or not she should have. The real question was the way she knew me--and I knew her.
Finally, at the old show, I think one or two cyclists' organizations may have set up tables. But they didn't have nearly as active a role as the organization at today's expo. One--which I never would have imagined back in the day--is a group of women who take social and training rides. I signed up. Back in the day, I never would have done that.
