Somehow I Don’t Think Kool Herc Envisioned This

 For the 50th anniversary of hip-hop, the world needs….another Epic Rap Battle. 

Just imagine how much more interesting the Presidential primaries would be if Nikki Haley and Ron De Santis rattled off rhymes…oh, never mind. I mean, even if either of them were capable of rapping (or if De Santis were even capable of being anything other than a psycho-sexual-spiritual black hole), I’m not sure I’d want to hear it.

But these guys might’ve been fun, whatever one might’ve lacked In versification virtuosity and the other might lose in translation.

Somehow I don’t think Kool Herc envisioned anything like it.

R.I.P. John Forester

The things you read in adolescence never really leave you, even if you stop believing whatever they teach you.

For some people, the things they read passionately during their teen years include the Bible or other holy books.  Some people continue to immerse themselves in such texts.  But even if you convert to another religion or become an atheist, whatever holy text you read (or were fed) when you were young continues to influence your thinking.

For other people, those literary works might include Atlas Shrugged.  I have to admit, it (and The Fountainhead) had a hold on me for a time in my life. As John Rogers has pointed out, AS or The Lord of the Rings "can change a bookish fourteen-year old's life.  Of those books, he says, "one is "a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with unbelievable heroes," which leads "to an emotionally stunted, socially crippled adulthood" in which one is "unable to deal with the real world."  The other of those two books, he says, "involves orcs."   

My mind was also seized, at various times, by Les Miserables, Fathers and Sons and A Tale of Two Cities, as well as poems by Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Hilda Doolittle.  And, since my "formative years" as a person also just happened to be the years I was born, if you will, as a cyclist, I was--and continue to be--influenced by three cycling books in particular.  One is Eugene Sloane's Complete Book of Bicycling because it was the first comprehensive book about cycling I read--or even saw.  Before I encountered it, I didn't even know that books about bicycling existed.

Next came Tom Cuthbertson's Anybody's Bike Book, from which I began to teach myself how to fix my bike.  It also taught me about writing and teaching, even though I really wasn't thinking about becoming an educator or writer.  He had a "light touch":  He took his information seriously, but could convey it in a friendly, even humorous, style.

Later, another cyclist would introduce me to what might be one of the most controversial cycling books of all time.  What made it controversial is that it wasn't just a cycling book:  It was also a critique of the way urban planners were treating cyclists--and of the way cyclists saw, not only traffic, but themselves.

That book is Effective Cycling.  When its first edition was published in the late 1970s, some cities were building bike lanes and even installing separate signs and signals for cyclists.  The thesis of EC was that all such efforts were misguided or wrongheaded.  In order to become viable options for transportation, planners and cyclists themselves had to treat the bicyclists as vehicle operators rather than as faster pedestrians.  

Its author, John Forester, was a lifelong cyclist who became an activist and advocate.  That avocation began in the early 1970s, when he was ticketed for cycling on a street rather than the adjacent bike lane.  He fought--and beat--the ticket because, as an engineer and planner, he was able to demonstrate that cycling in the bike lane was indeed more dangerous than cycling in the street.

Although his arguments had merit, they gained little traction among planners who, for the most part, perpetuated the mistakes he railed against.  One reason why those ideas weren't more widely implemented is that they were (and are) radical and therefore a threat to established notions about automotive and bicycle traffic.  Another reason might have been his style, which--in contrast to Sloane's earnestness and Cuthbertson's humor and relatability--was often called "preachy" or even "abrasive".  

Whatever you think of his idea of the "bicycle as vehicle," his critiques of bike lanes and policies were spot-on.  Unfortunately, four decades after EC's initial publication, I make some of the very same criticisms in this blog.

His long career--and his cycling--continued almost until the end of his life, which came last Tuesday.  He was 90 years old.

Will The Idaho Stop Come To Oregon?

Until recently, I was a disciple of John Forester's "bicycle as vehicle" philosophy.  It's explicated in his "Effective Cycling" book, which--along with the C.O.N.I. manual (which has, possibly, the most beautiful cover illustration of any cycling book)--were my touchstones for cycling.

I haven't looked at the C.O.N.I. manual in a long time.  I'm sure it's still valuable, though some of its specifics might be dated. (To my knowledge, no new edition of the book, at least in English, was published after 1972.)  But I still check out Forester's book on occasion.  Some of its information is dated. That is inevitable, of course:  The book came out about 40 years ago, and, for example, much of the equipment he mentions is no longer made.  But I think his notions about how to cycle in traffic are just as dated.

But they were needed at the time.  As I've related in other posts, many was my commute or training ride in which I would not encounter another cyclist.  Most motorists--which is almost the same thing as saying most adults, as defined by law--didn't ride and regarded the bicycle as a kid's toy.  And if they saw an adult riding, they thought it must be for a bad reason, such as loss of driver's license or inability to afford a car.  The "car is king" attitude was, I believe, even more prevalent than it was now.  Forester was, I think, trying to establish the bicycle as a viable and valid means of transportation for grown-ups in the US.  Four decades ago, that meant cyclists asserting themselves themselves on the road and behaving exactly like drivers in the ways we took lanes, made turns and such.

The conditions at the time also meant that almost no policy-makers were cyclists.  So, whatever laws and policies were created in the name of "safety" were wrongheaded, if not flat-out malicious.  Thus, while folks like Forester advocated for more enlightened rules, they knew that they would be a long time a'coming, if they ever came at all.  Cyclists asserting their rights as operators of vehicles therefore seemed like the best way to "establish" cycling, if you will, in the US.

Now, I'm not sure that drivers' attitudes toward cyclists have changed much.  If anything, I think some have grown more hostile becuase they feel bike lanes are taking away "their" traffic lanes, and because they have the misinformed notion that we use roadways and other infrastructure without paying for it. In fact, a driver parking in Brooklyn (at the formoer site of the library I frequented in my childhood, no less!) made that accusation as he shouted other fallacies and epithets at me.  I waited for him; he probably expected me to punch him in the nose.  But I calmly informed him that the only tax he pays that I don't pay is on gasoline.  I don't know whether he was more surprised by what I said or my demeanor.

Anyway, while drivers might be hostile for different reasons than they were four decades ago, there are some changes in the wind.  There are, at least in a few places, a few policymakers who cycle to their offices, and perhaps elsewhere.  And at least a few of the drivers I encounter have ridden a bike, say, within the last month.  So there is a small, but growing recognition, that while bicycles aren't the lawless hooligans some believe us to be, we also can't behave exactly like motor vehicles and live to tell about it.

That bikes aren't the same as cars is a point made by Jonathan Maus, the editor/publisher of Bike Portland.  In an excelllent article he published the other day, he uses that point to advocate for something that has become one of my pet causes, if you will, as a cyclist:  the Idaho Stop.

As I've mentioned in other posts, the Idaho Stop is when you treat a red signal as a "stop" sign and a "stop" sign as a "yield" sign.  In essence, it means that you don't have to come to a complete stop at an intersection unless traffic is crossing. That improves our safety immensely because if we can cross before the light turns green, we get out in front of whatever traffic might approach from behind us, as well as oncoming traffic--which keeps us from being hit by a turning vehicle.

Maus wrote his article because a similar law is up for vote in the Oregon state senate.  Governor Asa Hutchinson recently signed a similar law in Arkansas, and Utah is considering something like it.  A few municipalities in the US as well as the city of Paris have enacted similar policies during the past decade.  But it's called "The Idaho Stop" because the Gem State has had it on the books since 1982, and for about a quarter-century, it was the only such law in the United States.

Let's hope that Jonathan Maus's words move the legislators of Oregon.  Let's also hope that as Oregon goes, so go New York, Connecticut, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida and...well, you get the idea.

Jobst Brandt R.I.P.

Late yesterday, I learned about the passing of Jobst Brandt.

As “The Retrogrouch” and others have pointed out, he had a rare combination of skills and talents:  vast and deep technical knowledge, and the ability to communicate it clearly in everyday English that those of us who are less technically-oriented can understand.  He’s one of those people who didn’t let all of his theoretical knowledge get in the way of pure and simple common sense. 

 

Because of his qualities, he—whether or not it was his intention—helped to create, along with the late Sheldon Brown and a few others—something I’ll call, for lack of any other term, a communal wisdom base for cyclists.

For generations, cyclists in Europe (especially England and France), Japan and other places learned about places and ways to ride, and which equipment was and wasn’t worth buying, from their local clubs or other experienced cyclists they’d meet.  In the US, that infrastructure, if you will, was all but lost during the decades between World War I and the 1970’s Bike Boom.  There were a few who kept the flame flickering.  But if you wanted to find out what Fred (!) DeLong had to say about tires or gearing, Dick Swann’s ideas about frame structure and geometry or John Forester’s wisdom about cycling and traffic safety, you had to be near a bike shop or newsstand that had copies of the magazines in which they were published, or a library that had their books.

In other words, cycling in the US was basically a sea full of ships passing in the night.   As often as not, you learned what you learned by having the fortune to chance upon the right people (or publications) at the right time.  Such was the world I entered when I first became a dedicated cyclist during the Bike Boom.

What made this situation difficult for new cyclists was something I didn’t understand at the time, or for many years afterward:  While the advice and wisdom your fellow riders shared with you was, usually sound, as it was based on experience, it didn’t come with a cogent explanation of why it was so.  Either the cyclist who gave it to you couldn’t analyze it technically, or he (the type I’m about to describe was usually male) was a “techie” who was on the frontiers of the autism spectrum.  I’m thinking now of a cyclist in my first club, a brilliant engineer who was the first person I saw riding a fixed gear outside of a track.  He proselytized for his setup but couldn’t explain the benefits of it in a way that made sense.

Jobst Brandt

When someone like Jobst Brandt discussed, for example, wheelbuilding or particular wheel components, you’d come away understanding wheels and their components better than you did before.  And the knowledge he imparted helped you to understand, among other things, why that newest boutique wheelset was probably a waste of money for you and just about anyone else who has to pay for his or her own equipment.  

Although he tended to favor the best classic equipment over the latest thing, I think “The Retrogrouch” is correct in saying that he’d bristle at being labeled a “retrogrouch”.  He didn’t praise vintage stuff just because it was vintage.  (If you don’t believe me, read what he says about Sturmey-Archer three-speed hubs.  And he was talking about the ones that were made before Sun Race took over SA!) Moreover, he wasn’t averse to trying to improve what was already available:  After all, he designed Avocet Fas-Grip tires, still some of the best road rubber many of us have ever ridden.  

In brief, the man knew the difference between real technological innovation and the mere appearance of it.  In making that difference clear to us, he allowed us to see how rare true technological innovation actually is (something he, as an engineer, no doubt understood better than most other people) and how the appearance of it is turned into marketing hype.

Arthur Godfrey was an avid hunter who later became an ardent conservationist in an era when such a conversion was all but unheard-of.  A reporter once asked him why he still displayed the animals’ heads and other hunting trophies.  “To remind me of how stupid I once was,” he replied. 

Likewise, I save my mangled Rev-Xs, Kysriums, carbon forks and other techno-junk to remind myself of how ignorant I was before I encountered Jobst Brandt.  I’ll miss him. So will countless other cyclists.

Ride The Lane: You Are Traffic

Three and a half decades ago, John Forester's Effective Cycling was published.  To this day, no one (of whom I'm aware, anyway) has done a better job of elucidating what needs to be done in order for the bicycle to be seen as a viable option for commuting and other purposes.

Essentially, he said that in order for the bicycle to be seen as a vehicle, and not merely a toy, we have to ride as if our bicycles are indeed vehicles.  In explaining what that meant, he showed the folly of bike lanes and other planners' attempts to "accomodate"  us.

In the ensuing years, not much has changed, save for the number of cyclists.  If anything, the situation has gotten worse:  more and more bike lanes are being built and lots of neophyte cyclists believe they are safer in them, and that said lanes are a sign of their city's "bike friendliness" or simply its "cool factor".  

Here is an example of how, not only bike lanes, but prevalent notions of how cyclists ride in traffic, put us in more danger than taking a lane and thus making ourselves more visible to motorists:

By Keri Caffrey

 

John Forester As Literary Critic

In a previous post, I mentioned that a new edition of John Forester's Effective Cycling has been published.


Not long after learning that, I stumbled over an essay he wrote but which, to my knowledge, isn't in the book.  It's about a topic that I have never heard discussed in any English or Literature department--or, for that matter, in any educational institution.  


In his essay, Forester asks why cycling has played only an incidental role in literature, and why there are so few works of literature about bicycling or cyclists.


This is not to say, of course, that there is little writing about pedaling two wheels.  As Forester points out, there are any number of "travelogues" about bike tours and races, most of which center on the locales rather than the rides.  There are also any number of books, magazines and blogs, some of which include some very good writing.  However, as he points out, they are not literature because very few, if any, non-cyclists could find anything of interest in them.  That is because none of them connect cycling to the overall human condition and quotidian life as most of us know it.  Plus, most such works "get it wrong" about the way cyclists actually ride.  Even the "major" authors, some of whom make cycling a part of some of their stories.

Effective Cycling, Revised

The latest edition of John Forester's Effective Cycling has been published.  I plan to obtain a copy, in part because I am curious to see what has changed.  Also, given Forester's age, it might be his last revision to his book.


I have one of the early editions of the book, from 1985.  It may have been the first publication--at least in this country--to advocate and explicate the concept of Vehicular Cycling.  This means that cyclists should ride as if their bikes are vehicles--which, in fact, is what they are for many of us.  That means, among other things, taking and using lanes in similar ways. In turn, he says, motorists and policy-makers should treat bicycles as if they are vehicles.  


At the time the first edition of the book came out, Vehicular Cycling seemed like a radical idea.  Even more radical was his notion that there shouldn't be separate infrastructure for cyclists because if cyclists acted more like vehicle operators, there wouldn't be any need for separate bike paths and such.


Almost everything urban planners have done to promote cycling and make their cities more "bike friendly" runs counter to what Forester says.  One reason for that is that most planners are not cyclists; even the ones that are labor under the same misconceptions the non-cycling public has.  Also, it seems that cities can get money for building bike lanes, but not for Effective Cycling courses (or any cycling courses, for that matter).


I don't entirely agree with Forester's idea that there should be no infrastructure for cyclists.  If Vehicular Cycling became the norm, there wouldn't be as much need for paths and such.  There are a few areas, I think, in which such lanes make sense.  However, I would rather not have any lane at all than lanes that are poorly conceived- and -constructed and therefore even more dangerous than the streets from which the lanes are supposed to protect cyclists.  


Still, I think the fact that such questions are being discussed at all is perhaps Forester's greatest contribution.  

Bike Lanes To Nowhere

Greenpoint Avenue, Brooklyn:  Bike Lane To Nowhere

There's a planner who's sure he knows what cyclists need
And he's building a bike lane to nowhere
What he's finished he knows, if the mayor needs their votes
With a word he can get a grant for one more 
Ooh, ooh and he's building a bike lane to nowhere.


If you're a Led Zeppelin fan, I hope you're not offended.  But after riding on yet another "bike lane to nowhere," I found myself intoning the phrase to the tune of "Stairway to Heaven."


If you've read some of my earlier posts, you probably know that I'm somewhere between skeptical and ambivalent about building bike lanes. If they're well-conceived and -constructed, they can be a boon to cyclists. Sometimes it really is nice to be able to ride without having to worry about traffic and such.


But that "if" is a big one.  Too often, I've ridden on bike lanes that seem to go from nowhere to nowhere or, worse, that begin or end abruptly.  


The latter is what one experiences when cycling along Greenpoint Avenue from Greenpoint, Brooklyn into Long Island City, Queens, as I frequently do.  Greenpoint Avenue is two lanes wide, with the bike lane on the side, in Brooklyn.  But at the bridge over Newtown Creek, which separates Brooklyn from Queens, the roadway widens to four lanes, with no shoulder and a narrow walkway on which cyclists aren't allowed to ride (although cyclists do it all the time).  


Worse still, on the Queens side of the bridge, the roadway crosses a very confusing intersection, which includes a street used mainly by trucks (It's mainly an industrial area) that approaches the intersection from behind.  Also, car and truck traffic exits a nearby expressway and turns from  Van Dam Street, into the point of the intersection a cyclist would approach when exiting the bridge.  But the traffic is approaching from the opposite direction.  


To me, it's a wonder that there haven't been more accidents in that intersection!


What's really disturbing, to me, is that it's probably not the worst-conceived lane I've ever ridden.  But since I ride in the area frequently, it's one of my biggest safety concerns.  


Perhaps just as bad as the poor conception and construction of bike lanes--and the biggest reasons for my ambivalence and skepticism--are the illusion of safety they give some cyclists and the misconceptions about safety they foster among non-cyclists.  A lane that's separated from traffic but abruptly leaves cyclists in intersections like the one I described puts them in even more danger than riding on the streets would.  This is one reason why John Forester (author of Effective Cycling, one of the best cycling books in English) has long argued that such lanes will ultimately hinder any efforts to get non-cyclists, planners and the rest of the public to see bicycles as transportation vehicles and not merely recreational toys. 


When such things are pointed out, non-cyclists don't understand why we're "ungrateful" that their tax dollars are spent on bike lanes.  And planners who don't understand what bike safety is continue to build bike lanes to nowhere.

Cycling Couples and Bike Buddies

Much has been written, on various blogs and elsewhere, about cycling couples.  Most of those articles, entries and rants are about male-female couples of one variety or another.  

It seems that at least half of what I read on the subject concerns the disparity in ability, training, interest--or in the bicycles ridden--between the female and male half of the couple.  


When I first started cycling, the subject was mentioned only in passing, and only by men.  (Nearly everyone who cycled for non-utility purposes in those days was a man.)  In one of his books, Fred de Long referred to his wife as his "tandem partner."  I always wondered whether she was already cycling when she met him.  Or, was she a "willing convert"--or a grudging one?  


John Forester, in Effective Cycling (probably the best cycling book I read during my formative years) says frankly that one of his marriages broke up, in part, over her lack of interest in cycling and, as a result, one of the qualities he sought in  a prospective partner was her willingness to share his passion for cycling.  


A few articles in the magazines of the day--notably Bicycling!--mentioned the same dilemma.  However, the point of view was always the same: that of a high-mileage male cyclist.  This, from a magazine that was edited by a woman !


Later. on club rides, I would hear complaints from women about their male partners' impatience with them--or that those men had splurged on super-bikes for themselves but bought them uncomfortable bikes that handled like shopping carts.  And those men couldn't understand why they couldn't keep up, much less muster enthusiasm!


I have to admit that at in at least one relationship, I was guilty as charged.  Ironically, my last partner before my gender transition was the only one who shared my enthusiasm for cycling.  We did a tours of the Loire Valley and Vermont togethether, and were discussing plans for another when, er, other events intervened.


In my new life, the roles reversed.  I was the cyclist; he had no interest in it at all and couldn't understand why I'd spend an afternoon pedalling to some place to which he could drive in less than an hour.  However, that's not the only reason we're not together.


If you've been reading this blog, you might know that I sometimes ride with two female friends. Before my surgery, I was stronger than them, though not by as much as one might expect.  After my post-surgery layoff, and a shorter hiatus after I developed an infection, they were stronger than I was.  I'm starting to catch up; they have been patient.  (I don't post their photos only because they've asked me not to.  One of them just doesn't want, for professional reasons, to be mentioned on blogs or in any other public forum.  The other is simply shy.)  Somehow I don't recall anything like this in the groups of males with whom I used to ride.  When I look back, I feel that in those relationships, the accent in the phrase "cycling buddy" was on the first word.


Then again, on any Sunday, especially at this time of year, you can see people who are simply buddies who happen to be riding together, like these guys I saw on the Rockaway boardwalk:

Their bikes are what we used to call POS in one bike shop in which I worked.  But they don't know that, and don't seem to care.  Why would they?