Unstealable Bikes And "Smart" Locks

Why is it that "smart" things are always invented for dumb people?

That question is the premise behind today's post in "The Retrogrouch."  Its author seems to have some sort of radar that finds all of the most ridiculous and useless "innovations" in cycling.  The latest is the Noke U-Lock, which promises to "eliminate the hassle and frustration of lost keys and forgotten combinations".

Just as there are people who know how to communicate only on Facebook and Twitter, there are those who can't do anything without a smartphone app.  (Actually, they're the same people. Or so I assume.  I don't have a smartphone, or a Facebook or Twitter account!)  The Noke U-Lock is apparently made for such people. 

In reading about it, I had the same question "Retrogrouch" asked:  If people can't be bothered to use a key, or can't remember a combination or where they parked their bike, how in the world can they ride a bike--or function in this world?

Ironically, just before I read "Retrogrouch's" post, I came across something almost as ridiculous.  What's even more ironic is that it's something that, while just as pointless as the Noke U-Lock, will probably never be used by someone who'd use a Noke. 

The Yerka "unstealable" bike

The Yerka is an "unstealable" bike?  Oh, please.  What I find really funny is that the promo video starts off with someone cutting a bike lock. If a thief can do that, what's to say that he or she can't cut the downtube or seatpost that makes the bike "unstealable"?




If that bike were parked in some parts of NYC, the wheels would disappear. Hmm...Maybe the Yerka's owner would need another lock after all. The Noke, perhaps?&lt;/span></div>

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.

May Is National Bike Month

May is National Bike Month here in the US.

I didn't know, until a few moments ago, that May was first designated as NBM in 1956.  It's now sponsored by the League of American Bicyclists, formerly known as the League of American Wheelmen.

The first Bike Month was celebrated two years before I was born.  I don't recall hearing anything about it when I was growing up.  Early in my childhood (the mid-1960s), there were few adult cyclists, at least in my milieu:  blue-collar Brooklyn.  Even when the '70's Bike Boom took off, I still didn't see very many cyclists a decade or more older than I was.  By that time, my family had moved to a small town in New Jersey that was on the verge of becoming the commuter suburb it would be by the time I left for college.

I have been told, however, that in NBM's early years, it was used to promote bicycle safety, mainly in schools.  At that time, some notions about bike safety were, shall we say, misguided.  (Oh, wait:  They are now, too!)  Bike safety films--some of which "The Retrogrouch" has posted on his blog--imparted such pearls of wisdom as riding the door lane of a street and being prepared to "stop a lot".

Putting kids in the door lane?  Hmm....Could it have been intended as a population control device--along with "Stik" shifters on Sting Rays and Choppers?

From The Orange County Bicycle Coalition

Anyway...Bike Month today seems to be more about generally encouraging people to ride, in particular to work or school.  It's become a way to promote cycling as part of a way to make communities more sustainable. My home state of New York has one of the highest percentages of people who cycle or walk to work. Interestingly, Alaska is also, along with "usual suspects" Oregon and Vermont, also among the highest.

Whatever its purpose, I'm all for NBM because I'm all for anything that celebrates cycling.  Then again, I also feel the same way about it that I feel about Black History Month, Women's History Month and all of the other "awareness" days, weeks and months:  They're great, but the people and things they commemorate should always be remembered.

The World's Fastest Bicycle

At this time of year, it's hard not to think about children, whether or not we have any of our own.  After all, we were all kids once, and most of us have memories--for better or worse, or both--of this time of year.

For some of us, those memories might involve a bicycle, specifically finding one under the tree.  "The Retrogrouch" wrote a nice post about that last week.  I responded with a comment about the time I got a Royce-Union three-speed bike when I was seven years old.  The bike was much too big for me; I wouldn't be able to ride it for another couple of years.  That bike also holds a special memory because it was the last gift my grandfather gave me.  In fact, that Christmas was the last day I spent time with him:  He died the following March.

But whatever the circumstances, I think any bicycle found under a tree on Christmas morning always holds a special place in a kid's heart, even long after he or she is no longer a kid.  Even if it's made from gaspipes, nothing can be prettier or shinier or faster than that bike left by "Santa"; if we can't ride our new steeds that day, nothing seems more worth the wait, whether for snow to melt or, in my case, to grow into the bike.



I think children's author Ken Nesbitt captured that feeling nicely in his poem, "The World's Fastest Bicycle."

My bicycle's the fastest
that the world has ever seen;
it has supersonic engines
and a flame-retardant sheen.

My bicycle will travel
a gazillion miles an hour --
it has rockets on the handlebars
for supplemental power.

The pedals both are jet-propelled
to help you pedal faster,
and the shifter is equipped
with an electric turbo-blaster.

The fender has a parachute
in case you need to brake.
Yes, my bike is undeniably
the fastest one they make.

My bicycle's incredible!
I love the way it feels,
and I'll like it even more
when Dad removes the training wheels.

(From The Aliens Have Landed At Our School. a book of children's poems by Ken Nesbitt)

Making Our Heads Spin

I try not to repeat what other bloggers have already written.  But I simply can’t help myself (Well, I could, but it’s easier and more fun not to!) from talking about something The Retrogrouch noted: leather hairnets are coming back.

 

If you’re of a certain age, you remember them.  You may have even ridden one.  They are lattices, usually black, that look like pie toppings made out of leather (at least they were back in the day).  And they offer just about as much protection in a crash. 

 

For years, I owned one but never used it.  When I first became a dedicated cyclist—during the ‘70’s Bike Boom—it was pretty much the only kind of headgear, aside from caps, available for cyclists.  A few riders wore other kinds of helmets designed for ice hockey (which professional hockey players weren’t wearing) and other sports, or for construction.  But most of us didn’t wear any head protection (except for a cap) because those helmets were bulky, cumbersome or poorly ventilated and, even though many of us had “leather hairnets”, most of us didn’t think they would protect us in any meaningful way.

The original Bell Biker ("turtle shell") helmet, 1975

Not long after Bell introduced its “turtle shell” helmet, another company began to market something called the “Skid Lid”.  It looked like someone constructed a “leather hairnet" out of foam-lined plastic and removed the lid.  It may still be the best-ventilated hardshell helmet ever made, but as Retrogrouch notes, it probably wouldn’t protect you from anything more intense than a skid.

Skid Lid helmet, circa 1978

The first hardshell helmet I used regularly was the Bell V-1 Pro, which came out during the mid-80’s.  It tried to mimic the styling of the “leather hairnet”, but nobody was fooled.  At least it offered meaningful protection and was lighter and better-ventilated than Bell’s (and other companies’) earlier offerings.

Bell V1 Pro helmet, circa 1985: the first helmet I wore regularly (yes, in this color--don't you just love it?)

Now, it seems that some company in Taiwan is offering "leather hairnets", not only in classic black, but in a variety of neon hues and patterns as well as the tricolore and tricolori of the French and Italian flags. They're listed as "SPIN--Foldable Vintage crash hat", which may be just a very bad translation of something. It seems that someone’s idea of “retro” means combining the worst of two earlier eras:  the pre-Bike Boom days and the ‘80’s.  I fully expect they’ll be a hit with the wannabe hipsters!  Maybe those who have taste, or simply money or pretention, will buy the “authentic reproductions” Brooks will be offering.

"SPIN Foldable Vintage Crash Hat"

 Note:  “Leather hairnets” are very similar to headgear worn by American football players before World War II.  Some of us thought that Gerald Ford was, well, Gerald Ford because he wore one when he played college football during the 1930’s.

Pre-war American football helmet

 

A Cyclist's "I Ching"

When I started this blog four years ago, I was a little less than a year removed from my gender-reassignment surgery.  Before that, I had been living as a woman for nearly six years.


Through my transition, I noticed my riding habits, as well as my preferences in equipment, changing. Actually, early in my process, I wondered whether I would continue to ride at all:  I went through a time when I did very little riding and was occupied with other things.


But, about two years in, I found I was regaining my enthusiasm and the amount of my riding gradually increased.  The number of miles or kilometers I ride--and, perhaps, my intensity--has not returned to what it was when I was full of testosterone (and myself).  I wondered how much of that change--not to mention the shifts in my gear preferences--had to do with estrogen replacing testosterone, and how much was simply a function of aging.





My doctor and everything I've read related to gender transitions said that I would lose some of my strength and endurance from my hormonal change.   I assume most of what I've read wasn't written by cyclists (and my doctor isn't one), so nothing was mentioned about changes in bicycle and accessory preferences.


Actually, I've always been, if not a "retrogrouch", something of a classicist when it comes to bikes.  I have never owned a carbon-fiber bike, or even a titanium one, and have ridden very few parts made from those materials.  Save for a couple of aluminum bikes, every steed of mine has been constructed of steel, mostly with aluminum alloy components.  I prefer the look of classic or classically-inspired bikes, but more to the point, a rider can form a mutually supportive relationship with one over a long period of time.  They can be adapted in ways that today's ultra-specialized bikes can't be.  Moreover, I have had repairs made to steel frames that wouldn't have been possible on frames made from other materials.


And, even when canvas bike bags and other vintage-style accessories were all but impossible to find here in the US, I looked for stuff that was interesting, tasteful and distinctive: I never went for the Darth Vader all-black look or the cartoonish graphics found on too many current bikes, parts and accessories.  For about a year or two, Cannondale offered bike bags made with Andean-style woven fabric; I used one such bag, which mounted under the seat, for many years.


But now other cyclists are discovering the utility as well as the beauty of older equipment, or gear inspired by it.  Or, perhaps, I am simply finding out about such cyclists.  I ride and chat with a few here in New York (like Hal Ruzal of Bicycle Habitat) and I've come into contact with some through my blogging.  I think in particular of the author of Lovely Bicycle! in the early days of her blog, and of the current "The Retrogrouch" as well as Ely Ruth Rodriguez, who made the bags I've been using lately.    And, of course, there is Chris Kulczyki of Velo Orange, who started off by selling old parts he and his friends found in warehouses and, later, having modern versions--often, with better materials and design refinements--made.


One thing all of those cyclists--and others I've encountered--have in common is that they're near my age or, at least, past the stage in life in which people equate novelty with quality or, at least, hipness.  It's at such a time in your life that you stop thinking that fenders are only for people who are too (fill in the blank) to win a race!