Going Dutch--Into The Wind

I haven't spent a lot of time in the Netherlands, and it's been a while since I've been there.  So I won't claim to be any kind of an expert on the country or its people, both of which I loved.  I will, however, offer an impression, which relates to a comment on yesterday's post.

Like just about every place I've ever visited, the Netherlands and the Dutch people have their paradoxes. They can be most readily seen in, I believe, their art.  This is a nation, remember, that has given the world Vermeer, Rembrandt and Mondrian as well as Collin van der Sluijs and, of course, Van Gogh.  The contradictions can also be seen in the country's history and social policy:  More than a few historians and econominsts have argued that capitalism as we know it began in the Netherlands in the 16th Century, but in more recent years it has become famous for having a social "safety net" that is tightly woven even by the standards of its western European neighbors.  Also, the country that embraced the social order of Calvinism more than any other would become among the first to legalize same-sex marriage, heroin and other drugs and the right to die.  And, finally, what other nation could have produced a politician like Pim Fortuyn, who famously declared, "I'm not a racist.  I like Arab boys!" ?

I mention all of those things because, if you know about them, what the commenter brought to my attention makes perfect sense.  Perhaps an orderly society creates the need for people to do crazy things:  Sports like bungee-jumping aren't invented in places like Syria and western Sudan.  Mountain biking was born in America, not Afghanistan.  

So a competition that forces cyclists to pedal into 100 kph headwinds would originate--where else?--in the land of tulips and stroopwafels.  Oh, it gets even better:  The riders aren't astride the latest aerodynamic carbon-fiber bikes.  Since they are riding in the Netherlands, they are required to ride--what else?--Dutch-style city bikes.  You know, the kind in which the rider sits up like a dog begging for the treat in his owner's hand.  The kind with fully-enclosed chainguards and wheel covering so extensive that you can pedal to your wedding in your gown or tux.



Naturally, the Headwinds Championship is run along the Oosterscheldekering storm barrier that protects the land from the sea, but not the riders (or anybody or anything else) from wind.  I have alongside seawalls and other coastal barriers, so I know that if the wind is blowing the right (wrong?) way, they can act as funnels or tunnels, especially if the barrier is on an isthmus or some other narrow strip of land.

The competition is organized on short notice, so as to all but ensure the worst possible conditions.  I wonder whether the race is organized by the same folks who put together the Paris-Roubaix race.  I wouldn't be surprised if some of them are Dutch!

A Growler On Jeopardy

What do you get if you take a Dutch-style city bike with a "loop" frame, turn it upside down, move the chainstay (made of bar stock) about three inches above the bottom bracket and add a spring suspension on the front?

Well, I have never asked that question until now.  Actually, I didn't ask it:  I came up with it when I saw the (or an) answer.  

It sounds kind of like I was playing Jeopardy.  Can you imagine if they offered one of those bikes as a prize?

Joey Ruiter of Grand Rapids, Michigan designed the Growler City Bike after taking a Growler from a local pub and designing a bicycle--a cafe racer, specifically--around it.

The Growler features fat 29 inch tires, a Monarch springer front end, a two-speed internally-geared "kickback" hub , disc brakes and--the most important feature of all ;-)--a holder for a half-gallon jug ("growler") of beer.

Somehow I get the feeling I would actually like that bike. Does the Brooks Flyer (Or is it a B67?) saddle come as standard equipment on it?

Lovely Lilac Gazelle

Yesterday I wrote about a bike made in the shadow of the World Trade Center.  Today I saw this bike just steps from where the bike in yesterday's post was made:

Yes, I like the color.

A Parade of Bicycles for the Fourth of July

Today, in parades all over the nation, we will see bicycles decorated for the occasion.  Some are embodiments of patriotic fervor, like this bike:

From It's Overflowing

I'm not sure what brand it is, or whether it's even made in the US.  It has an American flag on its seat tube, but it looks new enough not to have been made here.  Still, it looks like an old American cruiser; it even has an Ashtabula crank--unlike the retro-repro models, which usually have cheap three-piece cotterless cranks.

But I'm not going to quibble.  For contrast, here's something with a more contemporary flair:

From Jersey Knitter

"Jersey Knitter" decorated those bikes a few years ago for the parade in the Garden State community of Montclair.  I would imagine that when those colors spin, the visual effect might be like a pinwheel firework.

In contrast to those examples of patriotic pedal power, here's a Dutch-style city bike decked out for the most American of holidays:

From  Detroit Mommies

In some weird way, this bike makes sense. If nothing else, the white bike makes a good "canvas", if you will, for the color palette.  Also, in a weird way, it makes sense historically.  After all, were it not for the Dutch (and French, Spanish and Poles), the American colonies might not have gained their independence from the British crown.  In fact, the Netherlands was the first nation to recognize the United States of America as a sovereign country.

Plus, the Dutch gave the world Mondrian. What would Look bicycles and the LaVie Claire team used for their logos if they didn't have Mondrian's compositions of lines and primary colors?

What's Your Idea Of A "City Bike"?

What is your idea of a "city bike"?

Some--including Grant Petersen of Rivendell--think that an old mountain bike with a good rack is, if not ideal, then at least the best possible.

Others, such as hipsters and some messengers would tell you that a fixed-gear bike is the only thing you should ride in the concrete canyons.  They would argue for the sheer simplicity of it.  A few would even go for a pure track bike with no brakes and a tight wheelbase, which makes them maneuverable.

Then there are those who want a plush bike to ride over sewer grates, potholes and all of the other hazards of the urban landscape.  Such riders--particularly those who do no other riding but their commutes--might opt for a hybrid or mountain bike with suspension in the front fork, and even in the rear.  Or they might ride cruisers or other fat-tired bikes.

There's also the English three-speed camp.  They are probably the most immune to fads:  Such riders will clatter along on their vintage Raleighs, Dunelts, Rudges and other machines from Albion.  Because they're immune to fads (at least in bikes), they never think of their mounts as "vintage," even if they those bikes were made before they were born.

Cousins, if you will, to the English three-speed crowd are the ones who like Dutch-style city bikes.  Some might also argue that these cyclists are variants of the comfort-bike crowd.  The difference is that, not only are the Dutch bikes built for comfort and durability, they also come with features that you may have never thought of having on your bike but "might come in handy", such as built-in locks and lighting.

And then there are those who like the speed and nimbleness of the road bike, but want a more upright riding position and a bit more style.  They're the ones who ride French-style city bikes and porteurs, which are based wholly or in part by the elegant machines made by constructeurs such as Rene Herse and Alex Singer.

Finally, there are the rat-rodders.  In other words, any bike that looks like it's been to hell and back is the right bike for the city.  Lots of cyclists here in New York follow that credo, which makes a lot of sense when you have to park your bike in high-theft areas.  The rat-rod can be just about any kind of bike; these days, the majority (at least here in New York) seem to be ten- or twelve-speeds from the '70's or '80's, or mountain bikes from the '90's.  Think of the guy (Yes, he's almost always a guy.) who delivers your supper from the Chinese restaurant or diner:  He probably brought your meal on a "rat-rod."

A variant on the rat-rodder is the urban cyclist who rides a Frankenbike.  You've seen them: the Specialized Rockhoppers with Schwinn Varsity rear wheels; the Peugeot ten-speeds with high-rise bars and forks in a color (and style) that clashes with everything else on the bike.

In the nearly three decades in which I've been riding in New York, and through the years I biked the boulevards of Paris---and while biking on trips to other large cities like London, Prague, Amsterdam and San Francisco, I have seen my notions of the "ideal" city bike evolve and change.  Sometimes I want comfort; other times, I want a bike that I can leave in urban combat zones as well as those areas--like the neighborhood around St. Mark's Place--to which thieves gravitate.  At times, I've craved speed and the ability to slice between parked cars and belching buses; at other times, I've worried about preserving dental work.  But I've always thought about what's practical for my errands, commutes and other ride-and-park activities like shopping.  And, of course, I've changed, and so has the city in which I live.

What's your ideal city bike?  Has your idea of it changed?  If so, how?

A French Dutch City Bike Leads To Romance

Can you guess what comany made this bike, or even where it was made?

At first glance, it looks like a Dutch bike, doesn't it?  And, in many ways, it resembles one.  But it's at least a few pounds lighter.


I'll show you the men's version of this bike:

Its owner added braided cable housing,toe clips, a TA one-clamp water bottle cage and a Brooks saddle bag.  Even if you can't see the decals, there's one detail that should give you a clue as to where these bikes were made.


The headlight has a yellow lens.  Until recently, the bikes (and cars) sold in a particular European country came so equipped.  That country is, of course, France.


Now do you know who made these bikes?  Clue:  They were the largest bicycle manufacturer, and one of the leading auto-makers, in Gaul.  Oh, yeah, and they made those great pepper mills.


Yes, those bikes were made by Peugeot.  When I worked at Highland Park Cyclery, I actually sold one of the women's version.  Back in 1982, there was practically no demand for such bikes in the US.  And, no "serious" cyclist rode anything but a diamond (a.k.a. "men's") frame. But the customer wanted a stable, upright, sturdy bike.  Plus, she liked the style of it.


She wore a skirt when I was fitting the bike to her.  She mentioned, just casually (ahem!)  that she had long legs for a woman her height.  As if I hadn't noticed...


Our relationship lasted, if I recall correctly, about a year.  Looking back, I'm surprised it held as long as it did:  I was in my early 20's and she was about a dozen years older.  She was a surprisingly durable rider, and was a writer. However, beyond cycling and writing, we didn't have much in common.  Plus, as the self-help folks like to say, each of us  had our issues.  


Still, I have some rather fond memories of riding with her.  And, I am responsible for the only sale of the women's version of that bike--the Peugeot VX-40--at Highland Park Cyclery.  In 1982, that was no small feat, if I do say so myself!

Chelsea Couple

People have told me that, given my history and proclivities, I really don't spend much time in Chelsea. Actually, coming from some people I know, that statement is an accusation rather than an observation!


The funny thing is, I used to spend more time there when it was still largely a working-class Irish neighborhood and, later, when art galleries that couldn't afford to stay in Soho moved to the western fringe of the neighborhood.  Those times were well before my transition.


Anyway, Chelsea is like a lot of places in that it's very different if you know people there and go into their homes.  Otherwise, it's mostly a shopping area with lots of restaurants and the Piers.  But, inside the apartment blocks, tenements and restored brownstones, there are all kinds of stories.  A few of them can be told by the bikes parked outside:

For those of you more interested in the bikes than in my scintillating social commentary or historical perspective (You know who you are! ;-) ), the bikes are of course both Dutch-style city commuters/commuters.  The one on the fence is a Raleigh, believe it or not.  The bike leaning against it was made in Belgium by Mechelen (?).


In black, they make for a rather distinguished if bourgeois couple who have their charm.  Isn't that what every couple wants to be, at the end of the day?

Letting Sleeping Dogs And German Bikes Lie By The Sea

What's that about letting sleeping dogs lie?

They are under...a broomstick, a couple of trees and a clear blue sky.  Seriously, they are under the care of a couple of park rangers at the old Fort TIlden site, which is part of the Gateway National Recreation Area.


Lakythia and I rode there, among other places, along the ocean.  I can tell already that she's a real friend:  At Rockaway Beach, she saw me in a bathing suit and didn't flinch.  As this is a family publication (ha, ha), I won't post a photo of that, or of me when I was soaking wet.  However, I will post a photo of her.  She's absolutely radiant, just having returned from two weeks of voyaging along the Italian coast.  

At Rockaway Beach, we feasted on the round loaf of whole wheat bread I bought in Parisi's Bakery, a mozzerella and tomato salad I brought and a tortellini salad she brought.   Now, just because my last name is Valinotti, I don't want you to read any bias into what I'm going to say next:  You really can measure the level of civilization of any nation by the amount of olive oil and garlic it uses in its national cuisine. ;-)

All right, there are other things that determine how civilized a society is, such as the transport bikes (or lack thereof).  This one, as best I can tell, is either German or Dutch.  The few inscriptions on it were in what looked like German.  I tried to photograph them, but none of the inscriptions are legible in the photos.


However, I thought the headlight was attached in an interesting place, in an interesting way:

I don't think this bike had a hub generator.  Rather, it seems to have had a bottle-type generator mounted to the front fork.  There was a brazed-on tab for one, and it looked as if the generator had been mounted at some point.  Was it stolen?  Or was it removed for a repair?


I was curious to know more about the bike.  But sometimes I guess it is better to let sleeping dogs lie.