The Biggest Bicycle Museum: Small Enough To Need Help

 It's a "small" museum.  But it's the biggest of its kind.

I'll trust the Pittsburgh Gazette's characterization of Bicycle Haven as a "small" museum.  I haven't seen it--or Pittsburgh, for that matter--but I'm sure that the Smithsonian, British and Metropolitan Museums and the Louvre--all of which I have seen--dwarf it.  Having seen a few other bicycle museums, I don't doubt that it's the largest of its kind.

Now Bicycle Haven is looking for donations.  That's nothing new for museums, or any other institutions that don't have major donors or endowments.  There is, however, a special urgency to BH's latest appeal for donations:  On Christmas Eve, a pipe froze, burst and caused $100,000 in damage.

To some of the big museums, especially those funded by wealthy private donors, that might seem like petty cash.  But for BH, it's like losing a few months' salary when the rent is due.  It's the creation of Craig Morrow, who built its collection over two decades before opening the museum in 2011.  That collection included everything from the extremely rare Bowden Spacelander, the first fiberglass bike (and one of the few ever made), in addition to "boneshakers."

As I understand, Pittsburgh punches well above its weight when it comes to its museums.  I certainly would make a point of visiting everything from the Carnegie to BH if I ever find myself in the "Steel City."  But there are, I am sure, people who go to Pittsburgh to see Bicycle Haven, or who visit it, but not the other museums, when in Pittsburgh.  As a proud New Yorker, I give all due respect--which is often ample--to cities like Pittsburgh for having museums like Bicycle Haven that would be considered "niche" or "cult" in other cities or by people who are not generally interested in the museum's focus.

My love of cycling is not the only reason, however, why I would visit Bicycle Haven.  I guess that even though I'm in, ahem, in the middle of my life, I am as much a sucker as any Millenial for the story behind something--at least, in the case of an institution like Bicycle Haven.  It is, after all, a reminder of how most museums, "major" or niche, begin:  with the collection of someone with a passion for whatever ends up in the display cases, or on the pedestals, that line said museum's corridors.

A Bike Bay In The Steel City

Possibly the most difficult part of cycling in traffic is navigating intersections.

In jurisdictions that don't have some form of the "Idaho stop," cyclists are expected to follow the traffic signals as either vehicles or pedestrians.  One problem with that is that a cyclist proceeding straight through an intersection is in danger of getting hit by turning vehicles--especially right-turning trucks and buses, as their drivers often do not see cyclists who are far to the right of them. Another problem is that in very large intersections, it is all but impossible to turn left without running into danger from oncoming traffic.

Of course, the "Idaho stop" is meant to remedy the first problem:  Treating a red light as a "stop" sign or a "stop" sign as a "yield" sign (which is what the Idaho stop is, in essence) allows the cyclist to get out ahead of drivers who are making right turns.  As for the second problem, a new solution is being tried out in Pittsburgh.

In the city's Oakland neighborhood, boxes--"bays"--are being carved out in intersections.  Cyclists proceed to them and wait for their signal--which is activated by radar designed to detect their presence--before continuing through the intersection. 


I, for one, will be very interested to see how this idea works out.  In principle, it sounds good, though I must admit that I'm skeptical about a "bay" in the middle of an intersection that is separated from traffic only by lines of paint.

A New Hip And A Broken Heart: A Race Uphill

What do Pittsburgh and San Francisco have in common?

Well, I've never been to the former steel-making capital, but I'm told that, like the City By The Bay, it has some really good Irish bars.

And hills.

In fact, the City of Bridges claims the steepest hill on a public street in the United States:  Canton Avenue is supposedly even steeper than Lombard Street.

And Denton Dailey plans to scale it, and 13 other hills, on his bicycle.  They're part of a race called the Dirty Dozen.  It's being run today, and it's been a part of every Thanksgiving Saturday since 1983.

Denton Dailey

Over the years, 1657 riders have entered the race.  What sets Dailey apart from the others is not his age, even though he is 60:  Three years ago, then-69-year-old Paul Salipante completed the race.  

He also won't distinguish himself if he scores points on the hills:  last year, 58-year-old John Brockenbrough  did that.

So what make Dailey unique--well, almost-- among Dirty Dozen entrants?  

Only one other rider--Gene Nacey in 2011--entered the race with an artificial hip.  In May 2015, Dailey's a ball-and-socket joint ruined from years of accumulated injuries was replaced with a titanium and ceramic hip.  

Surgeons fixed his body.  But they couldn't do anything about his broken heart:  Not long after, a longtime girlfriend broke up with him.  Dailey says his intense training of the past year has been as much a way to recover from that as well as to acclimate to life with a new hip.

However the race ends, Denton Dailey--who is a professor of, ironically enough, robotics and electronics at a local community college--sounds like a winner to me!