From The Barrel: How Does It Age?

The bicycle has a two-century history, if you regard the draisienne as its starting point.  During that time, two-wheeled machines operated by foot power have been made from all sorts of materials, including wood--as the draisenne was.

Every generation or so, someone or another "discovers" wood as a bike-building material.  Some advantages of the material are its relative light weight and stiffness.  They, of course, are the reasons why wooden bicycle rims were used, mainly on track bikes, for decades even when nearly all frames were made of steel.  They were banned because bicycle wheels, especially those on track bikes, are built with highly tensioned spokes and ridden with high-pressure tires.  The problem was that an impact or other problem that would cause a wheel with a metal rim to bend or fold, but remain intact, would cause a wooden rim to shatter and send sharp splinters flying about.

I imagine that wooden frames wouldn't have such problems, as the joints that hold them together wouldn't be as taut as bicycle spokes, or experience impact in the same way.  On the other hand, I have to wonder how a wooden frame would hold up in various weather conditions, especially extremes of wetness or dryness.

If nothing else, a wooden bike would have a "cool factor", as few other people have one.  That is probably the reason why it would be such a popular item at an event like the North American Handmade Bicycle Show, held in Sacramento two weeks ago.

This "Cooper Bicycle" was created by industrial designer and University of Kansas professor Lance Rake. To join the wooden beams, and for the dropouts, he cut pieces of steel with a waterjet.  The seat and headtubes were also steel, just like the ones found on a traditional frame.

What makes the bike unique--and inspired its name--is the source of its wood:  a wine barrel.  A barrel-maker was known as a cooper, and I don't doubt that more than a few of them made bikes, as blacksmiths and other artisans did.  

That bikes were made by such people, and from materials like the ones Rake used, is the inspiration for a vision of his.  He wants to sell Cooper bikes, he says, but he is also interested in making plans and patterns available to local artisans "so we can make bikes from local resources."

Does he have plans to use his machine on a wine-tasting bike tour in, say, California or France or Italy?  "I hate to admit it, but I'm more of beer and whisky drinker," he confesses, "but my wife is into Red Blends."  Could a tandem be in the works?

Ebony, Ivory....And Rubies

Did Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney go to the North American Handmade Bicycle Show?

They probably didn't. But Helio Ascari did.

Of course, he brought something he crafted in his Brooklyn workshop.  The Brazilian-born custom bike builder is probably best known for wrapping leather string around his frame tubes to make them look as if they're woven, like baskets.  While the work is eye-catching, it's probably not surprising when one realizes that Ascari has made furniture and leather goods, and restored antiques.

The "something" he brought to the show takes his showmanship to another level.  It draws on skills acquired in other work he did before he became a bike builder:  as a fabricator of steel goods, and in the fashion industry. 

The bike in question, which starts with one of his leather-wrapped, Columbus-tubed frames, includes dynamo hub lighting and a Brooks B17 saddle with large copper rivets.  All right, those things are nice, but not terribly unusual. 

There's more copper-- and brass-- in accents on  the frame.  Oh, and carbon fiber-reinforced beech wood Ghisallo rims.

But the pieces de resistance are the brake levers made of gold and ebony--and 13 rubies applied on various parts of the bike, including the levers.

For only $38,000, it could be yours.  Or Paul's.  Or Stevie's.

Not For Women--Or Anybody

When I was writing for a newspaper, a police precinct commander sold me something I haven't forgotten:  "Lucky for us that most criminals are stupid."

For many perps, their folly begins in thinking that they'll actually get away with what their misdeeds.  But for others, their foolishness shows in the ways they execute--or don't execute their offenses. 

I got to thinking about all of that because I think there's a parallel principle in making works of "art".  We are lucky, I believe, that most of the truly offensive stuff--you know, things that are racist, sexist, homophobic or otherwise show contempt for some group of people that did nothing to deserve it--is purely and simply bad.  And that is the reason why it is usually forgotten.


So why am I pontificating about virtue and virtu on a bike blog?, you ask. Great question.

Yesterday "The Retrogrouch" wrote about a bicycle displayed at the North American Handmade Bicycle Show (NAHBS).  Its builder, Allan Abbott, dubbed it "The Signorina."

With a name like that, you might expect a nicely-made women's city or commuter bike with some Italian pizzazz.  Instead, it's a not particularly well-made (for a handbuilt bike, anyway) machine that's supposedly built in the likeness of a naked woman.



So far it sounds like a silly novelty item, right?  But it doesn't seem like anything to get worked up about. Or does it?  

Now, I'm sure there are places where such a bike could not be ridden because it would offend the sensibilites of some people.  I'm not one of them:  I have no aversion to nudity, although I have to wonder whether anyone in his or her right mind would want to see me naked.

But I digress.  If you're going to use a human form, au naturel, in one of your creations, at least show it in all of its imperfect glory--the way, say, any number of painters, sculptors, photographers and writers have done.  Whatever its gender, size, colors, shape, age or state of alertness or weariness, make it a reflection of what we are, and aspire to.  Above all, make it living, human and organic.

The supposedly female form in Abbot's frame is none of those things.  If anything, it's plain creepy:  The "signorina" is on her "hands" and "knees"--and headless.  I'm sure there are people--a few of whom are cyclists or collectors--who are turned on by such degradation.  I guess I'm philistine and reactionary:  I'm not one of them.

But, to be fair, if "Retrogrouch" hadn't described it, I might have needed time and an extra look or two to discern the nude female form straddling the wheels.  Call me slow or un-hip if you must.  Even after reading about it on Adventure Journal  as well as Retrogrouch's blog, I'm still not convinced that the bike in any way--realist or abstract, linear or Cubist, Classical or Impressionist--evokes a female, or any other human, form.

In other words, it doesn't work as art.  Perhaps we should be thankful for that.  

Somehow I get the impression it's not such a great bike, either.