What I Didn’t Carry

 In one of my earliest posts, I described what I carried—literally and figuratively—in the original messenger bag.

In those days, four decades ago, I was too angry and stupid—and, I believed, too broken—to do anything, professionally or personally, that required me to interact with another human in a way that would require me to reveal my intelligence, talents or vulnerability—or lack of those qualities.

I can assure you, however, that during those days of dodging taxis, pedestrians, dogs—and, sometimes, myself—while pedaling slaloms through Manhattan traffic (Remember, there was no “bicycle infrastructure!) that as strange and, at times, illegal as my cargo sometimes was, it in no way resembled what Huntington, West Virginia police found in Kristopher Osborne’s by backpack when police stopped him, ostensibly for riding his bike without a light.

He was carrying drugs—as I did on at least a few occasions. But he also had a gun (For all I know, I might’ve delivered one!) in his knapsack, which was full of explosives.

What Are They Studying?

 It may be hard to believe, but the waters around New York City were once the most fertile beds in the world. Charles Dickens, in his journal of his American travels, marveled that the bivalves were so abundant that blue collar workers ate them for lunch.

(That, according to at least one food historian, is how the “oyster bar” was born.)

Anyway, harvesting them from the city’s waterways has been severely restricted for about a century. Since the late 1990s, however, attempts to re-introduce them have been successful. Still, health and environmental authorities warn against eating them.

Rats along the Gowanus Canal in Brooklyn, apparently, didn’t get the memo . When an environmental group installed beds along the waterway, the rodents seemed to know that humans spend good money to wash them down with Chablis.  Le vin being unavailable, the gray-tailed grabbers made do with Eau de Gowanus.

So, I had to chuckle when I saw this:

Some students have planted oysters to study the health of the harbor. The sign warns against eating them. Pardon my ignorance, but I think that sign says plenty.

Le Velo De Plume

 If “stationary” stores sell pens and other items for writing,

do “stationery” bikes exist only on paper?

(Now that I think of it, a store—at least a physical one—is, by definition, stationary. But can you ride a stationery bike?)

From The City To The Island

 Yesterday I pedaled out to City Island. It’s not a long ride (about 25 kilometers round-trip) and it’s mostly flat.  So I thought about taking Tosca, my Mercian fixie, but instead went with La-Vande, my King of Mercia.

I was glad I made that choice: I pedaled into the wind most of the way back. Also, La-Vande has fenders, which shielded the bike—and me—from salt and sand the Department of Sanitation spread over the streets during recent snowfalls. And parts of the Bronx River and Pelham Parkway Greenways were mud puddles. 

While most of the bike—and I—were protected, the chain and cassette are a little worse for the experience. I don’t mind; I’m going to replace them in a few weeks.

I regret not photographing is some streets and both Greenways.  Road conditions are usually at their worst around this time of year: The salt and sand, along with temperature changes, result in fissures that make some of those concrete and asphalt ribbons look—and ride—more like broken stairway. Interestingly, it was worst along the stretch of Pelham Greenway from Williamsbridge Road to the I-95 underpass: Its surface was more uneven, and muddier, than along the path through the wooded area just before the bridge to City Island.

Only City Island Avenue traverses the island; the other streets, only a block or two long, are bookended by the Avenue and the water. And the Avenue has only one traffic lane in each direction. So it doesn’t take much to create a jam, which I encountered. The good news, for me anyway, was that I could move along easily.  Perhaps surprisingly, given that it was a mild day (about 12C or 54F) for this time of year, I didn’t see any other cyclists—or pedestrians or scooters.

So, when I reached the end of the island, I felt it was all mine—or, perhaps, that everyone else had forgotten it.

I must say, though, that there’s something I very much like about the light and water at this time of year: The austere, steely clouds and tides of winter are showing the first hints of turning into a more vivid, if still stark, shades of blue that will, eventually, brighten in the sun.

By then, the days, and my rides, will be longer, I hope.

Will They Stop The “Idaho Stop?”

In 1982 Idaho passed a law allowing cyclists to, in essence, to treat a red light as a “Stop” sign and a “Stop” sign as a “Yield” sign.  This piece of legislation made cycling both safer and more efficient:  It allowed cyclists to proceed through intersections ahead of turning vehicles and to keep up their rhythm.

At the time the law—now commonly called the “Idaho Stop”—was enacted, it was went almost unnoticed. That may have to do with the fact that the Gem State was, and is, one of the least-populated in the USA. Also, I suspect that there weren’t many transportation or even recreational cyclists there four decades ago. I haven’t been there, but I suspect that most adult cyclists were passing through (and enjoying the scenery) as part of an inter-state or transcontinental tour.

Ironically, planners and legislators finally took notice of a law passed in a mostly-rural state when current “bicycle culture “ developed about 25 to 30 years later, when jurisdictions from Portland, Oregon to Paris, France adopted versions of it.

Now, one has to wonder whether the “Idaho Stop” will survive in its namesake state.

Boise, the state’s largest city, is part of Ada county. Its highway district (ACHD) currently consists of five commissioners, all elected. Cyclists seem satisfied with the arrangement.  The cynic in me says that’s the reason why there’s a bill moving through the state legislature that would add two new commissioners—one appointed by the governor, the other by the commissioners themselves.

Some in the local cycling community fear that the law, if passed, could tilt the ACHD in tonmore anti-bike position and stall, or end, bicycle infrastructure creation and improvement.

While a governor’s appointment might not seem to have much immediate impact, there is fear that it could have outsized influence on the current commissioners and the election of future commissioners.  Such a fear is not unfounded in one of the most Republican—and pro-Fake Tan Führer—states in the nation. While previous Republican lawmakers in the state and nation seemed to take a laissez-faire attitude toward cycling and cyclists, too many current party leaders (and members), taking their cues from FTF, are openly hostile to us.

I just hope the “Idaho Stop” won’t be stopped—in the place of its birth or anywhere else.

Eat-ce un Amour Nouveau?

 I know it’s been almost two weeks since Valentine’s Day.  But it’s still February. So I thought I’d share this story of how a divorced couple may have found a new way to relate during a bike ride:

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/21/style/modern-love-divorce-paris-trying-to-not-love-him.html

Backlash Against Bike Lanes

 One hard lesson I learned in my gender affirmation journey is that the euphoria of a victory, whether personal or for a community, is all but inevitably followed by a backlash.  Such a reaction could come from the same individuals or groups who initially supported the positive and necessary changes you and your community made.

In my own life, I think of how relatives, co-workers and (former) friends—and, yes, a lover—turned on me after voicing support when I started living under my current name and gender identity and, later, when I had my surgery.

Since its Civil War, the US has witnessed two major vocal, and often violent reactions against efforts to create a more just society. The first followed Reconstruction, when newly-freed African Americans were doing everything from running their own farms to running for office.  In response, White supremacist groups like the Ku Klux Klan formed and Jim Crow laws were passed. The second reactionary movement is one we’ve witnessed during the past few decades:  the current far-right movement, which includes, again, White Supremacists, allied with Christian nationalists and other reactionaries. It is the counter-current against the Civil Rights, feminist and LGBTQ+ movements of the past six decades or so.  Far-right members often talk about “taking back” “their” country.  Some were once part of the very movements they’re reacting against.

A similar phenomenon is brewing against bike lanes. San Francisco is removing the Valencia Street bike lane 18 months after the city installed it. (To be fair, the lane was supposed to be a 12-month pilot project.) Meanwhile, Ontario’s provincial government is taking actions to remove bike lanes in Toronto.  Other jurisdictions are making similar moves or stalling or canceling plans to build new bike infrastructure.

(In a related move, the self-coronated Fake Tan Fūhrer has ordered the end of congestion pricing in my hometown of New York. It’s not clear, however, that he has such authority.)

So why all of the hate for bike lanes?  If what I hear in the Big Apple echoes in other ‘burgs, much of the opposition comes from drivers and small businesses owners. The former believe that cyclists are taking “their” lanes and parking spaces, while the latter complain about lost sales.

Shop owners may have a point.  Malls (most of which are moribund) and big-box stores are inherently auto-centric. So are the business and commercial districts of most American municipalities:  They are designed so that customers can drive into, and park, in them.  While that characteristic doesn’t cause Wal-Mart to lose customers—such stores are usually surrounded by large parking lots—the downtown stores and cafes rely, in large part, on curbside access.

As for lost traffic lanes and parking spaces:  As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, studies show that it isn’t the case.  Bike lanes don’t “cause” traffic jams:  In most cases, the road was already congested.  As more than one planner has observed, streets and highways are “build it and they will come” projects.

The real reasons for the backlash against bike infrastructure, as Ron Johnson writes in Momentum, include the following:  a.) even in large cities, transportation planning is made in an “imaginary world” in which there are only “suburban drivers “ and its corollary, b.) the lack of a true infrastructure that allows cyclists to pedal safely from Point A to Point B.  Too often, the bike lanes are just “tokens,” poorly-conceived, constructed and maintained ribbons that make no one safer.

Two examples are the Grand Concourse lane near my current residence and the Queens Boulevard lane near my former home. Both are center lanes along the divider. One problem is that every few blocks, traffic crosses the lane to enter or leave the service lane.  Another is that because those lanes are not physically separated, drivers use them as passing lanes. (Some seem to take out their aggression by passing as close and as fast as they can to cyclists.) Moreover, trucks park or idle in the lanes when drivers deliver to the businesses that line the Concourse and Boulevard.  Oh, and I’ve seen cops sipping coffee and munching their donuts (OK, accuse me of stereotyping!) in patrol cars parked in the bike lane.

In other words, such lanes benefit no one. Nobody is safer and, perhaps, shop owners are indeed losing business.  A better-planned bike network would take cyclists where they want and need to go and allow traffic to flow more efficiently.

But would it stop the backlash?  Well, maybe not.  As Johnson points out, it’s one of the “culture wars” in which cyclists and their allies are seen as “woke” granola-crunching gender-variant (whoops, I meant non-male- or -female conforming) “enemies.”  In other words, people like me.  So the backlash against bike lanes doesn’t surprise me.

Beasts Of Burden

 I have never ridden a donkey.

I have, however, cycled in places where people rode both mules and bicycles. The bikes, of course, were strictly utilitarian:  You don’t see anything that would be pedaled in the Grand Tours on rural paths in Southern Italy or the Greek Islands.

And I don’t recall seeing anything like this:

Rocky Mountain High

 Now this sounds like a “Rocky Mountain High”:  a Denver bike ride on 19 April.

If that date sounds familiar, you either were reading my blog ten years ago (!) or, ahem, know more than the average person knows about the history of psychedelics.

On that date in 1943, Dr. Albert Hofmann took, literally and figuratively, the world’s first LSD trip—on his bicycle.

Accounts differ as to whether he intentionally partook of the drug after he first synthesized it. But the account he wrote of that, um, trek in Switzerland is entirely congruent with other stories about “acid trips.” (Don’t ask how I know!🤪)

Anyway, on the 19th of April, there will be a “Bicycle Day” (the date’s unofficial designation) ride followed by a party. I wonder whether anyone will try to re-create Dr. Hofmann’s experience or wait until the festivities for, shall we say, a heady time.

Denver is not the first city to hold a “Bicycle Day” ride. But where else can cyclists, uh, elevate their consciousness in, er, that clear Rocky Mountain air.

Malcolm X And A Commute Through History

 After last week’s detour, I’ve been riding a different route to work.  Along the way, I pedal through one Harlem’s historic districts.

On West 138th Street, just across the bridge from the Bronx, I spotted this:

That plaque is affilxed to St. Mark the Evangelist church, which bills itself as the first Catholic parish in Harlem to welcome Black people. It would serve as the meeting place for Marcus Garvey’s Universal Negro Improvement Association and other political, social, cultural and religious organizations.

Just a block away, I rode along what must be one of the most beautiful blocks, architecturally, in Manhattan. A few of the brownstones are in disrepair, but all are protected by the city’s historic landmark designation. This plaque adorns one of those houses:

I am sure Esther Crain, author of Ephemeral New York (one of my favorite blogs) will be interested. Turns out, the Nassau Bahamas Association, now known as the the Bahamian American Association in New York, is still going strong.  

Nothing like a little Black History to spice up a commute, is there?

In case I haven’t delved enough into African American, Harlem and New York history for a post on a bicycle blog, I’ll leave you with this:  On this date in 1965–exactly 60 years ago —Malcolm X was assassinated.

The Carters

 Today is Presidents’ Day in the US.

In my lifetime, the only Presidents who seemed not to have ridden a bike once they were old enough to drive were Lyndon B. Johnson and the Fake Tan Führer. The latter briefly sponsored a race: the Tour de Trump, which later became the Tour du Pont. 

Although I’ve shown images of him astride his Rivendell in previous posts, I’ve decided to share one of Jimmy Carter—who passed away, aged 100, late last year—with his wife Rosalynn, who predeceased him a year earlier.

What Must You Overcome?

 You’re a couple of miles (or a few kilometers) from the end of a daylong ride. But every pedal stroke feels like a Herculean effort; every turn of your wheels seems not to move you any closer to home, the finish line or wherever your ride leaves off. 

You keep on pedaling and hope for a rush from the energy bar (or other snack) you downed. In the meantime, do you tell yourself, “Hmm…Maybe something is wrong with the bike”?

Matthew Cherry

 Today, most people believe tricycles are for toddlers or old people. But as the first “bike boom” took shape during the late 1880s, some saw “trikes” as a viable alternative to high-wheelers, a.k.a., “penny farthings”. 

The bikes most commonly associated with that period had front wheels much larger in diameter than the rear. Cranks were attached to the front axle. The bikes were therefore “direct drive,” which meant that the gearing was determined by the size of the front wheel. A larger wheel meant a higher gear and potentially more speed. (I can only imagine pedaling them uphill!) Racers and riders who simply wanted to go fast (or “prove” their manhood) often rode perched over front wheels taller than their bodies. And, aside from their inherent instability, “penny-farthings” posed another hazard: A cyclist’s foot could be caught in the wheel.

Variations of the “safety” bicycle—one with wheels of equal diameter and a chain connecting a sprocket on the rear wheel with a chainring on the crank—had been in the works well before that first “bike boom” began and mostly displaced “penny-farthings” by the middle of it. It’s what most of us have been riding ever since.

But around the same time British inventor and industrialist John Starley introduced the first commercially-successful “safety “ bicycle, another inventor on the other side of the Atlantic patented a new kind of human-powered wheeled transportation: the tricycle. It would look more or less familiar to us today: two rear wheels and a somewhat larger front attached to a metal frame. The first version was propelled (and stopped) by the rider’s feet on the ground; a later version had cranks and pedals attached to the front wheel: the drive system of “penny farthings.”

Among Matthew Cherry’s later inventions were a fender (what we might call a bumper) for streetcars.  Believe it or not, until he developed it, those transport conveyances lacked anything that could absorb shock from a front or rear impact and were thus frequently damaged.

Anyway, in spite of his accomplishments, little is known about Cherry’s life aside from having been born 5 February 1834 in Washington, DC. (Nobody is sure of when or where he died.) The nation’s capital has long been a racially segregated city: It didn’t outlaw slave auctions in its confines until 16 years after his birth.

That last sentence is a clue to what I’m about to say: Matthew Cherry was Black. It’s hard not to wonder whether that was an impediment to his further developing the tricycle. Had he been able to secure more investment and other support, might he have developed a way to create something like the adult tricycle we see today: one with the drivetrain system nearly all of us ride today, with its capacity for variable gears.

I haven’t ridden a tricycle since I was a toddler. I don’t recall seeing an adult trike here in New York, though some cargo bikes resemble them. Still, I wonder:  What if tricycles, and not “safety” bicycles, had displaced high-wheelers?

Certainly bike—or more precisely, trike—design would be different. Transportation and urban planning might also be different. I suspect that one reason why adult tricycles are so rarely seen in New York and other cities is that three-wheelers are more difficult to maneuver in traffic and even in bike lanes. (In fact, some “bike lanes” aren’t wide enough for them.) Would streets and other infrastructure have been designed differently—possibly in less auto-centric ways? And might our cities—and society—be less segregated?

If nothing else, tricycles might not be just for kids and folks in retirement communities.

Wondering About Their Winter Wonderland

 According to reports, here in New York City we’ve had more snow during the past week than we’ve had during the past two winters. I can believe it.  That said, the white stuff didn’t come all at once:  Snowfalls were punctuated by spells of rain and above-freezing temperatures.  Therefore, most un-plowed or -shoveled surfaces have only a shallow coating.

Still, I and other New York cyclists have encountered a problem Cathleen Cronin reported in ecoRI news:  bike lanes covered with snow or, worse, ice.

The latter aborted (Can I use that word in the current political climate?) my commute the other day.  I was about to cross the Macombs Dam Bridge from Yankee Stadium to Harlem when my front wheel slid from under me.  The glacial stream covered the entire width—and, as far as I could see, length—of the bridge’s bike/pedestrian path. In years past, I rode in the traffic lane. But I didn’t want to take the risk of encountering an ice patch on it. Also, traffic seems to be heavier—and the vehicles bigger (with more aggressive drivers) than when I crossed thirty, or even ten years ago.

So, I did an about-face. I could’ve picked up one of the other routes I take, but that would’ve required some back-tracking. Fortunately, I didn’t have to go very far to the Yankee Stadium subway station. 

I haven’t cycled in East Providence, Rhode Island. But I reckon that it doesn’t have anything like New York’s transit system. I wonder how commuters (and other cyclists) deal with impassable lanes or streets and few, or no, alternative routes.

A Cateye View Of The Future?

Today we're going to take a trip on the Wayback Machine...to the  future! 

The second link in the previous sentence references one of the most popular movies of all time.   Around the time it came out, I acquired a piece of what was possibly the most advanced bicycle-related technology of the time.

I am referring to a Cateye Solar computer.  Like other Cateye products of that time, it was cleverly designed, easy (at least relatively, for a perpetually technologically-challenged person like me) to use and all but indestructible.   That could mean, of course, that it could have been made only in Japan, where anything that was good, electronic and not made for the military was manufactured.

The only problem with it was, well, that you had to keep it charged.  Otherwise, the solar battery would die altogether.  (That, I suspect, is how many units fell into disuse.)  And it was difficult to read in less-than-optimal light conditions.

I got to thinking about the Cateye Solar when I came across this:

According to a patent recently filed, Classified--the Belgian firm that brought us the Powershift hub--plans to harness the sun's energy to charge electronic bicycle components, including electronically powered brakes.  

I'll be the first to admit that I'm hardly part of the target market for such a system, as I have not taken to electronic shifting or other bike parts.  I respect, however, one intention behind the invention:  eliminating the need to plug in to charge an electronic system.  I have to wonder, however, how well the system would store energy and whether it would "die" if it's depleted.

Still, I admit that I cheer just about any time someone comes up with a way to run anything on solar--or any other sustainable--energy source.  Hmm...Does that put me on the Fake Tan Fuhrer's Enemies List?

“Kittie” Knox

 February is Black History Month in the U.S. In years past, I’ve recounted the life and accomplishments of Major Taylor (which I may re-visit this month), a Black cycling brigade and other stories related to the experiences of African-descended cyclists in America. Today, however, I want to call attention to someone who has been all but forgotten, save by a few African American history scholars.

Katherine Towle “Kittie” Knox was born on 7 October 1874 in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts. When she was seven, her father died. Shortly afterward, her mother moved with her and her brother to the West End of Boston, a largely impoverished neighborhood that many American Blacks and immigrants called home.

She would work as a seamstress and her brother as a steamfitter. In addition to helping her family, her work allowed her to save money and buy a bicycle, which was a “big ticket” item. Her job also helped her to create a unique, and sometimes controversial, identity.

Ms. Knox came of age just as the first American bicycle boom was building up steam. And the Boston area was one of its epicenters. Kittie’s enthusiasm and talent were quickly noticed, and she was invited to participate in races and other events—and to become a member of the League of American Wheelmen (now known as the League of American Cyclists) in 1893.

In one of cycling’s more shameful episodes, one year after Knox became a member, the L.A.W. amended its constitution to mandate that only White cyclists could join. Disputes about Kittie’s membership ensued. She did not give in to pressure to resign and the amendment was not retroactive. “Kittie” Knox thus remained a member and a popular rider in its—and other—events.

But her popularity didn’t shield her from the “double whammy” of race and gender discrimination. Even as a card-carrying L.A.W. member, she was denied entry to races and other rides. And she was refused service in hotels and restaurants.  A newspaper account from 1895 describes an all-too-typical incident:

Asbury Park, New Jersey was a fashionable beach town and the site of a prestigious race. That newspaper account offers a glimpse into its troubled racial history. It’s a morning’s or afternoon’s bike ride from where I lived during my high-school years. Whenever I rode through that part of the Jersey Shore, I couldn’t help but to notice how I was pedaling from White to Black, or back, when I entered or left the city, which was ravaged by a race riot in 1970. And neighboring Ocean Grove was a “sundown town.” Both municipalities, like my high school town, are part of Monmouth County—which, according to some sources, had the largest Ku Klux Klan membership of any county north of the Mason-Dixon Line.

The newspaper account of that time also highlights, if unintentionally, the other “prong” of discrimination she faced. The “pretty colored girl from Boston” used the skills she acquired as a seamstress to create outfits that, in addition to allowing more freedom of movement than typical women’s cycling attire of the time, had a distinctive look. So, even when she won a race, reporters and much of the public focused on her appearance rather than her aptitude or hard work.

Unfortunately, not enough has changed. I can recall sports journalists and commentators tamping their praise of Serena Williams’ other-worldly tennis playing with criticisms of her inability to conform to their ideas of femininity.  Rebecca Twigg probably made more money from modeling clothes than from winning a rainbow jersey. And, for all of her dominance on the basketball court, much of the media and public seem more infatuated with Caitlin Clark's Midwestern “girl next door” persona.

Given what I’ve just said, it’s interesting and possibly disturbing to think of what her post-racing life could have been like. Would she have kept the flame of American cycling alive after World War I? Could she have become a fashion designer or created a line of clothing for athletic women? Or would she have been part of the “Harlem Renaissance,” whether on-site or in spirit?  We’ll never know because she died on 11 October 1900–four days after turning 26–from liver disease.

Motivation

 What keeps you going?

Five weeks—or less—until Spring, depending on whether you believe Phil or Chuck.

What Caused This Head-On Crash?

 A few days ago, I wrote about the fight to re-open Mount Tamalpais to cyclists.  In it, I mentioned my experience of pedaling up l’Alpe d’Huez, with its 21 virages (hairpin turns). I have also cycled in other mountainous areas in Europe and the US.

Mountain areas tend to be sparsely populated which, of course, is part of their appeal: It’s possible to enjoy peace and beautiful scenery without intrusions of noise and clutter. The relative abundance of human habitation, however, means that there are fewer roads: In some places, there’s only one route from one city or town to the next.  And those roads might be narrow and, like the one up the Alpe d’Huez, full of twists and turns.

Such a trajectory means that it’s often difficult, or even impossible, to see an oncoming vehicle.   Also, many such roads, whether they’re two- or four-lane, were built at a time when people drove smaller vehicles, or even before the advent of motorized transportation. So, even on a road with a “shoulder,” there’s barely a mountain goat hair’s breadth between a cyclist and a passing SUV.

Or one that’s coming from the opposite direction. I couldn’t help but to wonder whether that was the scenario that led to Kevin Carter’s death in what was described as a “head on collision.”  The comments that followed the YouTube video included some of the usual victim-blaming that follows such a tragedy: Some believed that Carter riding on the center line or in the wrong lane; others blamed him, an experienced cyclist, for taking too many risks or not enough precautions. Still others wondered why he was cycling in the first place.

Even with the challenges of driving and cycling I enumerated at the beginning of this post, I can’t help but to wonder how much the crash had to do with law enforcement and planners’ disregard for cyclists’ safety—and their assumption that drivers have more rights than anyone else on the road.

Flocks Seen During A Solo Ride

 Seen during a mid-winter, late-day ride on Randall’s Island:

What Are These?

 

Arizona Bike Law includes a page titled with what seems like a rhetorical question: “Is This A Bike Lane?”

The question becomes not-so-rhetorical because they answer:  No, according to the Manual of Uniform Traffic Control Devices, the transportation engineers’ “Bible.” But the city of Phoenix, where the pictured “bike lanes” are located, insist that shoulder strips just wide enough for a bicycle tire “separated” from lanes where buses, trucks and SUVs roam by a line of paint is safer than riding in the roadway.

Tariffs On Bicycles And Bike Parts--To Curb Illegal Immigration and Fentanyl Importation?

A Getty Image

 

One of the gusts in the storm of the opening days of Trump's second term is a round of tariffs on goods from Canada, China and Mexico.

Yesterday, the charges against Canada and Mexico were paused for 30 days,  but the ones aimed at China are still in effect.  Meanwhile, the United States Postal Service rescinded its announcement that it would cease accepting packages coming inbound from China and Hong Kong.

So what does all of this have to do with the cycling world?

Well, the effects on levies on Chinese goods--imposed on top of the duties and fees already charged--seem obvious at first glance.  About 87 percent of the bicycles sold in the United States are made in that country.  So are most accessories and helmets, and many items of footwear and clothing.  But those all of those items still account for only half of the money spent on bicycle-related goods in the US, mainly because most of the bikes are for kids or low-end models for adults.  While some carbon and other high-cost frames are made in China, the majority come from Cambodia, Vietnam and other countries.  "The specialty bike industry has moved out of China," one manufacturer's representative declared. "Any one that is still there has only themselves to blame."

Even so, many bikes and e-bikes that are "made in" Vietnam, Cambodia or even North America or Europe are built around frames that are made in China to be finished and assembled where they are "made."  And even if the frames are welded and painted in the US, there's still a good chance that some parts are made in China. So even if the manufacture of mass-market bikes returns to these shores (most of the bikes, or more exactly, frames built in the US are custom or limited- production), whether or not the tariffs will apply isn't clear.

As for our neighbors to the north and south, together they account for about a thirtieth of the sales volume of bikes and bike-related products from China sold in the US. Spinergy has been making wheels for bicycles (and wheelchairs) in Mexico for at least three decades; other companies, like Yakima, also made products there but have since shifted production elsewhere. But there hasn't been significant bicycle production in the country for decades; its best-known brand--Windsor--is now made in Asia and sold via eBay and direct-to-consumer outlets.  Most of Canada's sales in the US come from companies that operate on both sides of the border; thus, a bike coming crossing the northern border is likely to have come from elsewhere.

There are rumors that Trump will target the European Union next, but that--and retaliatory tariffs, if the EU decides to impose them--would be attached mainly to automotive and agricultural products, two categories in which the US is running a trade defecit.

Does all of this mean that you should run out and buy a new bike or helmet or stock up on parts you might need?  I don't know.  And what is the Fake Tan Fuhrer's rationale for the tariffs?  Fentanyl imports and illegal immigration.  How those things will be affected, I also don't know.  Nor do better minds than mine.

Two Speeds, Two Chains

 Most of you, I suspect, ride or have ridden a bike with two chainrings.  I would imagine, however, that none of you have ridden a bicycle with two chains that isn’t a tandem.

Some folks are about to have that experience. They’re not Grand Tour riders or triathletes; none (as far as I know, anyway) plan on embarking upon a cross-country or round-the-world tour.

Rather, they are folks who use their bicycles as taxis, pickup trucks and cargo vans. I encountered such riders in Cambodia and Laos and even rode bicycles like the ones they use.  Those bikes, however, didn’t have the unique feature I mentioned at the beginning of this post.

So why, you ask, are some people about to ride a bike with two chains? And, where are they?

I’ll answer the second question first:  Africa.  I’ve never been there, but I imagine that parts of it are like the Southeast Asian countryside I saw:  unpaved roads and paths with few, if any bike shops.  And the shops that exist can’t order a part you need for your SRAM Red 13 speed shifter and have it delivered by Fed Ex the next day.

In such an environment, a bike that would need such a part would be all but useless.  And it would be worse than impractical for hauling a 15 liter metal jug of milk from farm to village.

World Bicycle Relief has been working to address people’s needs in rural Africa and other parts of the world.  It developed the Buffalo bicycle: a “tank” with wide tires, steel rims and a coaster brake. This was believed to be the bike with lowest possible maintenance. Also, because the bike has a coaster brake, it can be ridden with wheels that are significantly out-of true.  Oh, and it has a rear rack that can support up to 200 pounds.

As you can imagine, the bike is heavy. But its users didn’t mind:  Reliability is more important to them. That weight, however, combined with its coaster brake hub—which has only one gear—meant that most people couldn’t ride it up a hill, especially if it was loaded.

A new version of the Buffalo bike is designed to deal with that problem.  So why two chains?, you might ask.

Well, each chain runs on one of the two chainwheels—and one of the two sprockets on the rear.  Those sprockets are part of a freewheel that looks like a wider version of the ones found on BMX bikes. One chain wraps around the smaller sprocket and chainwheel while the other winds around the larger sprocket and chainring.

This arrangement results in a two-speed bike without a derailleur, internally-geared hub or coaster brake. So how does the bike “shift?”

Well, the freewheel contains a mechanism that disengages one gear while the other is being used. So, if you are pedaling in one gear, the chain still spins on the other.  And the “shift” is made by pedaling backwards, just as you would on a coaster brake.

Achieving that, of course, meant giving up that coaster brake.  Instead, a pair of dual pivot brakes binds on robust alloy rims to stop or slow down. As the developers explain, some strength may be sacrificed but, apparently, there’s still enough to support a 200 pound load in addition to the rider. And it’s also easier to true an alloy rim.

Oh, and everything on the bike—including the freewheel mechanism—can be fixed with a tool that looks like an oversized version of the old Raleigh spanner—or an adjustable wrench.

I, for one, would be interested to try such a bike, if for no other reason than to experience the two-speed, two-chain system.  And I am always happy when a practical bike—whatever that means for a particular place or kind of user—is designed.

What Did He See?

 Today is Groundhog Day.

According to ancient folklore, if Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow, six more weeks of winter will follow. If he doesn’t, spring is imminent.

Drumroll…

Six more weeks.  Well, that is more or less when Spring Equinox, a.k.a. the “official “ first day of Spring arrives.

Sometimes I think Andy Warhol had Phil in mind when he said that everyone will have 15 minutes of fame.

I wonder what he does during the rest of the year.

Update:  Staten Island Chuck, out local “colleague “ of Phil, didn’t see his shadow.

A Legend Remains Off-Limits

 The exact place and moment mountain biking was “born” has been debated. What hasn’t been disputed, however, is that it evolved from a few young people (their inhibitions possibly loosened by an herb, if you know what I mean) bombing down fire trails and rocky paths in Northern California and Upper New England (where cyclo-cross enjoyed some popularity) on old Schwinn ballon-tired bikes they bought for a couple of dollars in thrift stores or found in the rubbish.  Depending on whom you ask, that would have been in the early 1970s, or possibly even the 1960s.

Of course, it wasn’t called “mountain biking” or “off-road riding” until much later—after folks like Gary Fisher started to modify those bikes with derailleurs and cantilever brakes (coaster brakes on those old bikes burned out during long, steep descents) and Joe Breeze made bikes specifically for the purpose.

Another agreed-upon part of mountain bike lore:  One of its shrines, so to speak, is Mount Tamalpais, which offers stunning views of San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge and the Pacific Ocean. In fact, “Mount Tam” is so iconic—in a way that l’Alpe d’Huez is in road bike racing—that bicycles, parts, accessories and clothing have been named for it.

Mountain bikers before it was “mountain biking “ on Mount Tamalpais during the 1970s.  Photo by Wende Cragg.

There are, however, some major differences between the two peaks. For one, the summit of Huez, in the French Alps, is about three times as high as “Tam.” And the views, while stunning, are entirely different. 

Also, there is a paved road with 21 virages, which is open to cyclists except, of course, when the race is approaching. (I climbed it in 2001, just before a ride up another iconic Tour de France climb would change my life. Tamalpais, on the other hand, is accessible only by trails—which have been off-limits to cyclists for about four decades.

In October, local cyclists thought they’d won “their” mountain back after the ban was lifted.  Or so they thought.

Photo by Maureen Gaffney for Outside magazine.

Just when they were ready to take a celebratory ride on the trails, a judge issued a restraining order. Turns out, several groups and the water safety commission lobbied against the opening. They cited concerns about dangers to plant and animal life—which includes rare species—and the water supply.  

Those concerns have been the basis of other bans, mainly in National and State parks.  Opening “Tam” would have involved only two trails: one for conventional mountain bikes, the other for electric mountain bikes.  I can’t help but to think the latter may have been a reason for the lobbying and the judge’s ruling:  They believe (perhaps rightly) that noise and vibrations from eBikes (which didn’t exist 40 years ago) will disturb wildlife.

It will be interesting, to say the least, to see whether Otis Guy, now 71 years old and part of the protest against the judge’s order, will ever be able to ride again on the mountain he, Gary Fisher, Joe Breeze and others made into a shrine of their beloved sport half a century ago.