"D" For "Dahon"; "F" For "Folding Bike"

Some days, the gray cloudy sky spreads like a shawl over buildings and trees.  But today, it's like the proverbial wet blanket.


So, I thought this might be a good day to talk about a bike I owned and didn't care for very much. In fact, it's part of a genre of bikes I'm not really crazy about, but not because I have anything against the genre. Rather, I find the bikes within them are all wanting.


That genre is folding bikes.  I've often felt I'd like to have one, even though I'm not travelling more than a couple of times a year.  Once, I did give into my curiosity and bought one:  the Dahon Vitesse D5.

Part of my rationale for buying it was that I could fold it and bring it into the office I shared at the time.  I was indeed able to do that, and folding the bike was easier than I expected.  However, the bike was heavier than I thought it would be (I had to climb two flights of stairs to get to that office, and my classes.) though, to be fair, it may have been because of some of the things I added to it.


The bike came in a matte-black finish.  It's not exactly my taste, but I think it was the only color choice available.  Soon after I bought the bike, I swapped out the stock saddle for a Brooks B72 I picked up on Craig's List.  That gave the bike, to which I also added a rear rack, a surprising elegance.


You've heard the term "flexible flyer."  That's what some of us called certain bikes like the Peugeot PX-10E (which I'll write about in another post).  Well, the Dahon was like a Broken Flyer:  When it rolled, it gave a surprisingly nimble ride, albeit on what felt like a broken frame.  Again, in all fairness, every folding bike I've tried--even the Brompton--felt like it was pulled apart in the middle.  I suppose that if I weren't accustomed to high-quality conventional frame, I might be able to accept that quality.  But, after about a year and a half of commuting and running errands on the Dahon, I was still distracted by it.


Another problem I had with the bike was its transmission.  The Sturmey-Archer 5-speed hub that came with the bike was one of the most unreliable pieces of bike equipment I've ever had.  I never could keep it adjusted; nor could the mechanics at the shop where I bought the bike.  Someone suggested that the problem may have had to do with the fact that when the bike was folded, the shifter cable was pulled and twisted. I'm sure that was a contributing factor, but I noticed that even after adjusting the gears when the bike was unfolded, I experienced "ghost" gear changes while I was pedaling.  Even changing the shifter from the twist-grip style that came with the bike to a more traditional "trigger" mechanism didn't make the shifts more accurate or smoother.


But the fact that the frame folded wasn't the only thing that made it an unsuitable ride for me. One one of the last commutes home I took on the Dahon, a small pothole I would just barely have noticed had I been riding one of my larger-wheeled bikes swallowed the front wheel and threw me off the bike--in traffic.  Neither the bike nor I was damaged, and I sold the former soon afterward.


Perhaps one day I'll get another collapsible bike.  But, for now, if I can't take one of my own bikes on a trip (or if doing so is overly expensive or cumbersome), I'll borrow or rent.  Then I'll appreciate riding my own bikes all the more when I get home!

Into The Fold: Bickerton

Mention folding bicycles today, and the first name that comes to most people's minds is Dahon.   Discerning (or rich) cyclists would probably mention Brompton.  

Those of us who came of age during or before the '70's Bike Boom recall the Raleigh Twenty and similar bikes made by Peugeot and other European manufacturers.  For a few days, I owned an Italian-made Chiorda from that era.

Interestingly, "folders" may be the one genre of bicycles not made by Japanese manufacturers of that time. At least, I don't recall any from Fuji, Nishiki or any of the other bike-builders from the Land of the Rising Sun.

One of the most interesting folding bikes of all--at least for its time--is almost entirely forgotten now.  However, it might be said to be the forerunner of today's folding bikes.  Andrew Ritchie said the bike I'm going to talk about was his inspiration in designing the first Brompton bicycle.

Harry Bickerton was one of those eccentric tinkerers who so often come from England.  He worked as an engineer at Rolls-Royce and De Havilland. In 1968, a driving ban made his commute difficult.  Dissatisified with using his road bike and the best folding bike he could find, he set out to combine the best features of the two.

The result was patented four years later.  It could fit into a shopping bag and, best of all, weighed only 17 pounds--less than almost any road, or even track, bike available at that time.

He achieved the feat with a hinge he developed that remained relatively rigid when the bike was opened up--and by constructing the frame from aluminum.  Also, most of the components were made from aluminum alloy--in contrast to the all-steel folding bikes from Raleigh and other makers--and the handlebars were made to be folded relatively easily.

Notice that I used the word "relatively".  In comparison to other folding mechanisms of the time, Bickerton's worked more smoothly and reliably.  However, it had to be handled with care.  As Tom Cuthbertson wryly noted, the manual that came with the bikes was one of the greatest pieces of instructional literature ever written because it had to be. 

Perhaps the most unique feature of the bike, though was that there were no welds or brazes anywhere in the frame.  Rather, it was constructed from aluminum profiles fitted together. 

Like other aluminum bikes that preceded Klein and Cannondale, the Bickerton is an example of a "flexible flyer".  Or, at least, a flexible magic carpet.  People who rode Bickertons almost always said they were great as long as you didn't mind the flex.  

I never rode a "Bickie" myself, but I suspect that its flexibility gave it more ability to absorb shock than other small-wheeled bikes.  I would guess that if you rode into one of those potholes with its own Zip Codes that we have in some parts of New York, you might have more chance of coming out of it without the mishap I incurred on my Dahon.

Perhaps the Bickerton's floppy qualities made it less durable, and might be a reason why so few can be found today.  Production stopped in 1989 and the factory closed in 1991, but bikes bearing the family name are being made in Taiwan for a company headed by Harry's son Mark.  The new Bickertons look a heck of a lot like Dahons.

Bickerton has a distributor in Mexico but not in the US.  Hmm...I wonder whether Dahon has anything to do with that.

It Folds. But It Won’t Come Tumbling Down.

 Last week, I wondered whether the folks at the World Meteorological Association were joking when they named a storm that dumped eight inches (20cm) in a day after a Shakespeare character who drowns.

Today I am going to question another naming choice.  Specifically, I have to ask why someone would name a folding bike after a structure whose walls came tumbling down.

No, I am not talking about Jericho.  And its designer isn’t named Joshua.  Nor is he named Donatien-Alphonse-François.

That last name, however, leads to a clue about the designer’s identity. D-T-F was the Comte de Sade, better known as the Marquis.  One of the world’s longest-running urban legends has it that he was in the confines of those walls when an angry mob stormed them.This myth has persisted even though he was transferred to another facility ten days before the revolt, probably because his most (in)famous work was later found in the rubble.

That facility is, of course, the Bastille prison. The bike in question is one that I might want to try:  It folds but, unlike Dahon, Brompton and other portables, the Bastille velo has full-size (27.5 inches, a.k.a 29ers). It would thus avoid one of the problems with smaller-wheeled bikes that caused me to sell my Dahon a year after I bought it:  getting caught in potholes.

To be fair, designer Gilles Henry—who also created the Voyo folding baby stroller—probably was thinking of the Bastille’s seeming indestructability:  It was a fortress before it became a prison.  Or he may realize that to many people, the name evokes the Place and Opera named for it and the fashionable cafés and shops that surround it.

Bicycles And Cycling In Prague

Seeing the photos in my previous two posts, I think you can understand why I haven't been posting much.  I'm taking in as much of this city as I can.  And, now that I've been navigating it on bike, I'm coming home really tired.  It seems that in order to get anywhere in this city, you have to climb a hill.  Of course, that's one of the things that makes it so beautiful.  

I've entertained thoughts of moving here.  Talking to Spencer at City Cycles has made me think even more about it.  I've also talked to three other Americans who live here, and all are happy,  In fact, there's something about people generally that seems happier, or at least less stressed-out, than people in any American city I've seen.  The Czechs themselves are reserved, but invariably helpful and polite.  Plus, they almost seem to expect that you don't speak Czech, and if they know any English, they want to use it.  Of course, if I were to move here, I would learn Czech, and possibly German.  (I knew some of the latter at one time, but have lost it through non-use.)

What I'd have to do, of course, is get my bikes and cats over here.  From what I've heard, the former would be easier than the latter.  Then again, I guess that would be true if I moved to almost any other country.  (When I lived in Paris, I didn't have cats, or any other pets.)  But if people here could live under Hapsburgs (I've heard that people have been denied PhDs in European history because they and their professors couldn't agree on whether it should be spelled "Hapsburg," "Habsburg" or "Habsbourg.") and Nazis and Communists, I could do those things.


As far as work goes:  I hope to do more writing for pay.  And, of course, I could teach English: It seems that there's an almost insatiable demand for it here.  Also, I'm told that people--particularly business people and students--want to learn other languages as well.  


And, to top everything off, although the cycling community is still small compared to, say, German cities or New York, it's growing. 


And how can you not love a city where you see bikes like these?

This one belongs to a young male concession-stand worker near the Lapidarium.  He told me that the bike belonged to his grandmother, and he painted the fenders, brake rods and bottom bracket cups.  

This Dutch Batavus tandem was parked near the Astronomical Clock.  I don't know whether it belonged to a local resident, to some Dutch couple on vacation, or someone else.  It looked interesting:  It was lugged, and the rich brown paint looked new, as did the Sturmey Archer internally-geared hub in the rear and dynamo hub on the front.

I saw this one in a shop in Vinohrady, one of the city's loveliest residential neighborhoods.  In the same shop, I saw a bike that confirms something I've long suspected:

Tell me it isn't a Dahon for the Czech market, whatever the label says.  Down to the smallest details I could see, it sure looks like the Dahon I had.  This confirms my suspicion that there are about a half-dozen, maybe ten, factories in Taiwan and China that are making about 99 percent of the bikes in this world.  They just get sold under different names in different countries.  As an example, I could see little difference between bikes from "Author", a common brand here, and ones sold in the US and other countries under Giant's name.  


And then there was this gem in a fashion display in Stare Mesto:

It's a Czech-made Favorit.  I think it's been repainted, as I don't recall any Favorits from back in the day in that color or paint scheme.  Also,the brown Brooks saddle and bar tape are give-aways:  Favorit bicycles came with their own brand of tensioned leather saddle (which was actually quite good) and all saddles--save for "banana" seats on "Sting-Ray"-type bikes--in those days were black.


Also from Favorit is this bike:

Yes, it's the one that's taken me over cobbletones, pebbles, dirt and pavement, and beside tram tracks as well as the Vlata River!

More Designers And Engineers Are Into The Fold

I have owned two folding bikes in my life.  The first, a Chiorda from the 1970's, I didn't have for very long.  But I rode the second, a Dahon Vitesse, to work for a year and a half.

As I've said in my post about the Dahon, I am not against folding bikes per se.  In fact, I see a real need for collapsible bikes that give a satisfying ride.  I just think such bikes are few and far between, although that could change one day.

That last statement is not just something I said to appease those of you who love your collapsible bikes or to prevent a flame war.  My optimism about the future of collapsible bikes is based on the fact that a number of designers and engineers are creating new and interesting ones.  Perhaps one really will be the folding bike of the future.

For some, getting a folder--or any bike--might be part of "going green".

It seems that Josef Cadek took that notion literally in designing his "Locust" folding bike.  It seems that whenever someone is creating a "modern" design, he or she seems to think it must be done in shades of white, gray or beige.  Not that I dislike those colors:  I just like variety.  (It drives me crazy that every other bike made is black, or so it seems.)

I have no idea of how the Locust rides.  One thing I will say for it, though, is that it's hard to fault for its shape or size when folded.  The same could be said about Thomas Owen's "One" which looks, well, more modern, at least in its tonal palette:

Since we live in a world in which we have to do so much in so little time, we have to "multitask."  So must our devices and gadgets.  So, since many cyclists ride with backpacks (I rarely do), Chang Ting Jen perhaps thought it was natural to come up with this:

Yes, a backpack bicycle!  Supposedly, it weighs only 12 pounds.  Of course, most people wouldn't want to carry much else if they have such a bike, as light as it is, on their backs.

You can read more about these, and some other interesting concept bikes on the Incredible Things webpage.

 

A Bike And A Bike Lane Done Right

Today I'm going to talk about a bike and a bike lane.

First, what I rode for three days in Paris. I'd already mentioned it in an earlier post.  I wanted to come back to it because it's unlike any other rental bike--or any other bike, period--I've ridden.

It's like the other bikes that comprise Paris a Velo's current rental fleet.  When I availed myself to their services four years ago, the bike I rode--which, again, was like the others in their rental fleet at the time--was a kind of hybrid/city bike.  It wasn't made for fast riding, but it sucked up abuse and neglect pretty well.

The same could be said, perhaps even more so, for the bike I rode on this trip.  Victor assured me that the tires were "flat resistant" and that the bike shouldn't give me trouble. He was right on both counts.  What I found interesting about this machine, though, were its construction and its ride.

About its build: While it, not surprisingly, doesn't have the fine filet-brazing of a constructeur bike, it did incorporate at least one principle of those old masters: structural integrity.  The rear rack is of a piece with the frame, and the front end is braced for strength.  One result is a surprisingly stable ride given the small wheels.

Those wheels, perhaps not surprisingly, got me to thinking about the one small-wheeled bike I owned and rode for any period of time:  a Dahon Vitesse.  (I briefly owned an Italian folding bike that I found on a curbside and "flipped" a few days later.)  One major difference, of course, is that the Paris a Velo bike doesn't fold.  That might be the reason why the PV bike felt so much more stable and was unexpectedly easy to accelerate.

(Oh, and I want to add that Victor included a really nice rain cape with the rental. I was tempted to ask whether I could buy it from him.)

One of the first places where I rode it was a bike lane along the Seine, toward the Notre Dame.  Too often, when I see new bike lanes in the US, I ask, "Why did they bother?"  If a lane isn't demonstrably safer than riding in traffic, there simply is no point to it.  Whoever designed that lane must have understood as much:  It's physically separated from the roadway by barriers that motor vehicles can't easily cross.  Better yet, there's plenty of room for cyclists traveling in both directions.  Too often--as with the Crescent Street lane in front of my apartment--a cyclist coming from the opposite direction risks a head-on collision or forces one cyclist to veer into traffic traveling in the opposite direction. (Crescent is a one-way street.)

So...while there might not be one "right" way to do a bike lane or city rental bike, I am happy to have experienced both done right.

Sunday funnies, funny bicycle images, folding bicycles

 I have ridden several folding bikes but have owned two. One was  a Dahon Vitesse 5 on which I commuted for about a year and a half. The other was a 1970s Chiorda I found in the trash on a Jackson Heights curbside. I rode the bike a couple of times before I gave it to a local mechanic who gave it to his girlfriend.

Neither of those bikes bore any resemblance to this one:

My New Commuter Bags: Koki Bagatelle And Dilly

If you've been following this blog for a while, you know that on most days, I had been commuting with my Carradice Nelson Longflap saddlebag.  On occasion, if I didn't have much to carry, I'd use bungee cords to lash my tote bag to my rear rack.  But, I'd say that the Carradice carried my books, papers, lunch, change of shoes and, sometimes, an extra layer of clothing (or, on hot days, clothes to change in to) on about 95 percent of my commutes during the past five years or so.

It's hard to beat the sheer, flat-out quality of Carradice's canvas bags. Plus, I love the way they look, especially on classic steel bikes (or modern steel bikes inspired by them) like my Mercians.  When I attached a shoulder strap to my green Nelson, it looked something like an old-school duffle, satchel or Danish book bag.

However, taking it off or putting it on the bike isn't quick.  I briefly used a quick-release Bagman support, but I found that the quick-release latches weren't very secure.  I understand that more recent versions of the quick-release Bagman have corrected this problem.  Still, I didn't want to take the trouble of attaching it to my saddle.

Before I started commuting with my Nelson, I used various panniers.  Because of their shape, I found that papers wrinkled and crumpled, and clothes wrinkled.  Also, I found that some panniers had a rather wide profile, which I didn't like when riding in the tight spaces of urban traffic.  The difficulty of maneuvering was further exacerbated when I used baskets that mounted on the sides of the rear rack, as they were even wider and boxier.  (I once snagged one of those baskets on somebody's bumper!)

I could have lived with the Nelson's idiosyncracies.  However, I got a really good buy on a Koki Bagatelle pannier.  i was buying something else on eBay, and the seller just happened to have the new bag, with its tags still on it.  At the price I paid for it, I figured that if it didn't work as a commuter or shopper bag for me, I--or someone else--could find some other use for it.

After two months, the Koki Bagatelle is looking more and more like a "keeper."  The Bagatelle is actually made for small-wheel bikes like Brompton and Dahon. So it is longer, but has a narrower profile, than most other panniers.  That means, among other things, that it protrudes over the rack platform, in contrast to most panniers whose tops are level with the rack platform.

What has surprised me is how stable it is.  It attaches to the rack with two alligator-type clips which are very strong.  

There is nothing to secure the bottom of the pannier to the rack.  Turns out, such a thing is not necessary:  The bag did not bounce, even when I ride on streets that bear more resemblance to the Ho Chi Minh Trail than to thoroughfares in modern first-world countries.  The mounting system also makes the bag easy to install and remove, though the latter is not a one-hand operation:  You have to pull the top of the bag, unclip one of the clips, then the other.  Still, removal is quick, which is particularly nice on a bag that's so secure when it's installed.

Once the bag is removed, you can set it down just about anyplace:  It has a "boot sole" rubber bottom that prevents wear and also keeps the bag from tipping over, even when it's unevenly loaded. 

Another reason I like this bag for my daily commutes is that I'm almost always carrying papers or manuscripts.  The bag's shape makes it very well-suited to this purpose.  I haven't tried carrying my laptop in it, but I would expect that, in its sleeve, my computer would fit very securely.

I happened to get my Bagatelle in a tan canvas material with brown leather trim. Personally, I think it looks great on Vera.  After using it for a couple of weeks, I bought a matching Dilly handlebar bag, which doubles as a shoulder bag.  

While it performs both functions quite well, I have two small complaints: 1. The length of the shoulder strap cannot be easily adjusted, and it's not easy to remove.  So, I have to bundle it up and tuck it inside the bag to keep it from getting caught in my brakes or spokes.  2.  There is no way to clip a light onto it, and the mounting bracket keeps me from using the light I had on my handlebar.  Plus, it's a bit small to use as a tote bag: It's more like a small purse or shoulder pouch.

Koki provides nylon rain covers with all of their bags.  I've ridden my bags in the rain and, while they provide a fair amount of water-resistance, they aren't as watertight as Carradice or, certainly, Ortleib bags.  But the rain covers will keep your gear dry and keep the canvas clean.

All in all, commuting with my Koki Bagatelle pannier and (sometimes) Dilly handlebar bag has been working out very well, and the quality of the bags seems very good.  I have been satisfied enough to take advantage of Koki's clearance sale on last year's models and buy another Bagatelle in another color, and a ""Budgie" handlebar/tote bag (which is a bit larger than the Dilly, but fits on the same mount as the Dilly).

For those of you who like ratings, on a scale from 1 to 10, I give the Bagatelle a 9.5 and the Dilly an 8.5.  My Carradice will return to the role to which it's best suited:  day and weekend trips.

How I Could Have Become One Of The Remembered

Today is Transgender Day of Remembrance. All over the world, people will read the names of trans people who have been murdered during the previous year.  Such observances began on this date in 1999, one year after trans woman Rita Hester was found barely alive in her apartment.  She had been stabbed 20 times and died upon arrival at the hospital.

As brutal as her murder was,  it wasn't unusual for trans or non-binary people.  It seems that haters have a particular penchant for spewing their bile on those of us who don't, in one way or another, conform to the norms of whichever sex we were assigned at birth.  And living as the people we are seems to bring out the lawlessness of too many law enforcement officials.

I could have been one of their victims--and, possibly, one of the names read at the commemorations.  One hot day early in my gender-affirmation process, I was riding my Dahon Vitesse home work.  I didn't like the bike much but its flat-black finish garnered a lot of compliments.  One of them came through the window of a van whose rear windows were blacked out.  "Nice bike," the passenger commented.  I nodded in thanks.

The driver slowed that van down.  I rode past and thought nothing of it until it pulled up alongside me again and the same passenger yelled, "Nice legs, honey."  I was wearing a skirt that day and my legs are often complimented, or at least noticed.  So I thought nothing of it until the guy repeated himself, louder, "Nice legs!"  I paid no mind.  Then the guy bellowed, "Stop!"

Of course, I didn't.  But, as it turned out, it was a situation of "damned if I do, damned if I don't."  Again, the van slowed down, let me pull ahead, then caught up to me.  The passenger side flung open.  "When we say STOP, you STOP!"

"Why?"

"We're cops!"

"Show me your badges."

"Shut up!," the driver yelled.  "Shut up and do what we tell you!"

"But if you're a cop, you have to have reason to stop me."

"What were you doing in the projects?"

"First of all, I wasn't there.  I wasn't anywhere near there." That was true which, I think, pissed off those cops even more. "Just shut up and do what we tell you."

At that moment, I was picturing myself in the back of that van and ending up in the river that night.  So, when the passenger demanded to see my ID, I opened my bag. Fortunately for me, the ID I carried had an old address:  I had moved recently and was waiting for my updated state ID card.  

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Where's that?"

"The address on the card"--which was a few blocks away.

"OK," hissed the driver. "Just remember--when a cop tells you to do something, you do it," the passenger bellowed.

"You can go now," said the driver.

As it was early in my gender affirmation process, I couldn't help but to think those cops--if they were indeed cops--were "curious" about me.  Or perhaps they were looking for a victim "nobody will miss." 

That incident went down not long after I had gone through a process of wondering whether my cycling would survive my gender affirmation process.  I had made up my mind to continue riding, but I have to admit that I wondered about my decision.

Fortunately, there are more transgender or gender non-conforming cyclists than there were back then, in 2005.  Or, at least, more of us are "out."  I've met a few and have made contact with others, including Molly Cameron and the wonderful Coline in Scotland.  And, of course, there is another Scot:   the incomparable Philippa York, nee Robert Millar, the first anglophone rider to win the polka dot jersey (for the best climber) in the Tour de France.

While cycling has become more inclusive--when I first started became a dedicated rider, nearly half a century ago, almost everyone who rode more than a few kilometers was male--we still need to work toward greater inclusion and safety, of, for and in our own selves.  That is our real journey, however and wherever we ride.

A Postcard: Forgiveness

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I sold Helene--the sloped top-tube Miss Mercian I stopped riding after I found Vera, my green Miss Mercian with twin-parallel top tubes.

Of course I felt sad:  She is beautiful and gave a more responsive ride than most "ladies'" bikes.  But I thought she deserved to be with someone who will appreciate her aesthetics as much as I did but would ride her more.

Also, as I mentioned, I have just bought a Mercian Vincitore Special, which according to Mercian's timetables, should be ready in March--which is fine, because it will be a gift to myself for a round-number birthday I will celebrate that July.  Of course, the money I got for Helene doesn't come close to paying for the Vincitore.  But I was able to strip  Helene for some parts I will use on the Vincitore.  

And, I tell myself, she's in a better place now. (Wait, that's not what I meant.)  Well, she is in a more exotic place, with someone who has promised to both treasure and ride her.

Although I'm not remorseful, I'm shedding an extra tear or two after receiving this:

Dearest Justine

I have had a horrible time but I feel safe again now but I have strange feelings and memories of when I was first made, could it be the voices and the cool weather? There is a nice lady who tells me she will look after me now and be my new Ms tress… She read me some thing she said that you wrote about why I am here. There have been worries about not being your favourite ever since that classy older girl came into your life, how could I ever compete? There were many lonely days hanging about hoping for a good long ride out in the fresh air but it was not to be.

When you started to take parts off me I first thought that I was going to be made smarter and more desirable then suddenly I was wrapped up in the dark, being shaken about and not knowing what was going to happen to me. Then my new Ms tress told me that I was held to ransom and kept for five more days waiting before being brought to my new home. My new Ms tress said that you must still love me quite a lot because you packed me up so carefully and made me very cosy for my journey, she loves the little present which you slipped in with me.

Wherever this is it is very nice, not as tidy as your home but here I can go out in the garden and be in the sunshine. There are some other bikes which live here with me, not from the same family as they were with you but an interesting mix. They are all a lot older than me, one is very smart, all black and silver with shiny new wheels, very elegant, she does not seem to have a name. There is a red and creamy white racy looking runabout called Viking who says that she could lend me her wheels until I find some new ones of my own. A small wheeled folding Dahon like the one I have heard you say was horrible has offered to let me have her springy Brooks saddle, she is close friends with an even smaller wheeled and much older maroon Moulton who wishes she could fold too but can’t. Upstairs where I have not been there are two others which are not completely working at the moment, I hope they are not jealous because I have heard that I shall be back on the road long before them.

It is so quiet here, most of the noise is birds flying about looking for food for their screeching chicks. They do not have cats in the house here but many sneak through the garden trying to catch the birds, I wish I had a bell to warn them.

The one thing which confuses me is that my new Ms tress tells me that I am really a Ms Mercian and my name is Justine! This could all be a strange dream but really I think I want it all to be true.

Your forgiving Helene.

I forget who said that forgiveness is the aroma the flower gives off when you crush it.  Somehow, I think that fits Helene very well!

GM Pulls Plug On Electric Bikes

Many moons ago, during my "Ayn Rand phase," I was trying to understand how markets, and the stock market, worked.  During that time, I chanced upon a book by someone (whose name I've forgotten) lost all of his money--and some he borrowed from relatives--in the stock market while it was at record highs.

I forget which stocks, exactly, he bet on and lost.  I have to credit him, however, with this:  He helped me to realize, at a tender age, that the stock market really isn't much different from a casino.  Years later, during the boom of the 1980s, I would come to learn that many of those gamblers in expensive suits were coke (and I'm not talking about The Real Thing) addicts.  

Still, it's interesting to ponder the question of why some prosper during hard times while others who seem to be doing all the right things fail just when conditions seem right for their success.

In the latter category is General Motors.  I'm not going to talk about their 2009 bankruptcy which, along with the insolvency of Chrysler Motors, almost turned the crisis of 2008 into a full-blown depression.  Rather, I am going to mention their latest ill-fated move:  Their entry into the e-bike market.

Late in 2018, GM announced its electric bike program with a flashy contest to name the e-bike.  From it, the name "Ariv" emerged and was introduced in February 2019.  GM offered two models:  The Ariv Meld was an electric bike, while the Ariv Merge was the same bike with a folding mechanism. 

Both bikes were made to comply with Europe's strict e-bike regulations, which meant that they had no hand throttle (like you'd find on a motorcycle) and instead were equipped with four levels of pedal assist.  In further compliance with European mandates, the bikes had a top speed of 25 km/hr (about 15.5 mph).  In the lowest power mode, the Ariv battery had a potential range of 64 kilometers (40 miles).

General Motors has just announced that it will cease manufacturing of Arivs.  While GM blames COVID-19's effects on their bottom line for their decision, I suspect other factors were at play.  One could be the price of those bikes:  2800 Euros (about 3060 USD at today's rates) for the Meld and 3400 Euros (3710 USD) for the Merge in Belgium and the Netherlands.  Even if the quality of those machines were commensurate with their prices, not many people, particularly first-time buyers (who, at this point, are still most of the market) would want to spend that much.  And not many delivery people, I imagine, could afford them.

Also, I imagine not many people would want to spend that much money on a bike with small wheels--unless it's a Brompton.  My own amateur observation leads me to believe that there is not much "crossover" between the market for Bromptons (or, for that matter, less-expensive folding bikes like the Dahon) and the market for electric bikes.

Arivs, as far as I know, were sold only in Europe.  There were plans to sell modified versions that could go 20 mph (33 kph)  for the USA, but  I don't know whether any such  bikes were made or sold.  I think, based on my amateur observation, that the bike would have needed larger-diameter wheels to succeed in America.

Anyway, GM pulling out of the e-bike market has not deterred other automotive companies, such as BMW and Skoda (a Czech automaker popular in Europe if little-known in the US)  from working to develop their own electric bikes and scooters. Spanish carmaker Seat, meanwhile, has recently launched their own micromobility (the name of the category that includes e-bikes and scooters) offerings.  

Into The Fold Again?

Lately I've been debating to myself whether I want to get a Brompton (when I have the money, of course!).  On one hand, there are ways I could use a folding bike.  And most Brompton owners seem happy with their machines.


On the other hand, I have had one folding bike, which I sold within a year because I didn't like it.  That was a Dahon model with a five-speed internally-geared Sturmey Archer hub.  It's the only bike I've ever owned that felt both squishy and harsh at the same time.  On top of that, the quality didn't seem very good and there were a bunch of proprietary parts.  Hal at Habitat says that the Brompton has even more of them.  


Perhaps the folding bike I'd really want was made more than forty years ago:

Yes, it was by none other than Rene Herse, who is shown with his creation in the July 1970 issue of Bicycling!


Don't you just love those knickers he's wearing?

Out Of The Fold Of My Past

In an earlier post, I wrote about the Dahon Vitesse D5 on which I commuted for about a year and a half.  I think I gave the impression that it was the only folding or collapsible bike I've ever owned.  That's more or less true, if you don't count another one I owned for a few days.  

I was reminded of it when I came across this photo:

It's a Chiorda folding bicycle, just like the one I owned for a few days. It's even the same color, although--cosmetically, anyway--in slightly better condition than mine was.

I had an excuse for its rattiness: I found mine by the curb, next to some bags of trash.  For some reason I don't recall, I didn't ride my bike that day to visit a then-friend who was living in Jackson Heights.  I spotted the bike as I walked to the subway station.

But I didn't take the train home.  I walked the bike to a nearby gas station where I inflated the tires.  They held air long enough for me to ride the bike back to Brooklyn, where I lived at the time.

At that time, I'd ridden a few folding bikes, never for very long.  The Chiorda was about what I expected from such a bike.  Actually, I should qualify that statement:  It was about what I expected from a folding bike, but slightly better than what I expected from a Chiorda.

You see, I developed an early prejudice against the brand.  My first--and, for a long time, only--experiences with them came in the first bike shop in which I worked.  A nearby R&S Auto (Think of it as a low-rent version of Western Auto or Pep Boys.) sold Chiorda ten-speeds for $69.  The quality of the ones I saw ranged from ghastly to just plain scary.  I don't recall seeing one that didn't have a misaligned frame; some had bottom bracket threads that stripped when you removed the cups, rear brake bridges that broke off the stays and various other problems.  

At that time, bikes from Taiwan and Eastern Europe (except for the Czech-made Favorits) were considered the worst on the market; I think the Chiordas I saw were just as bad.  To be fair, though, any of those bikes was better than the Indian three-speeds I fixed.  And, I would learn that Felice Gimondi actually won the Tour de France on a Chiorda--though not, of course, the one I found or the ones I'd worked on.

But my ingrained prejudice prevailed. Even though the treasure I found in the trash was better than I thought it would be,  I didn't expect to keep it.  One day, a few days after I found it, I took it out for a spin.  I stopped at a greengrocer, where I encountered a sometime riding buddy and local mechanic.  He actually wanted the bike--for his girlfriend.

I guess I can understand why he wanted it for her:  Even if it wasn't the greatest bike, it was kinda cute.  So, for that matter, was she.  He was, too.  I haven't heard from him in years.  Now I wonder whether she still has that bike--or him.