When Hipsters And Hasidim Use The Same Adjective

From Indigo Jo Blogs

When people on opposing sides of the same issue are using "stupid" as a prefix for the same word, the thing they're talking about can't be good.  Right?


I'm thinking now of bike lanes.  Both cyclists and the people who hate us, or merely find us a nuisance, use that same adjective in reference to the lanes.  


I was reminded of this when I stumbled over a site called "Stupid Bike Lanes" and read articles like this, and the comments on them. 


Of course, the velophobes--who include all sorts of (but not all) people whose way of life or business is auto-based--think we're getting in their way of getting to wherever they have to go and believe we're getting "special privileges."


As any number of other bloggers (including yours truly) and commentators have pointed out, the antipathy toward cyclists, particularly in urban areas, is often generational and based on socio-economic or ethnic issues.  Here in New York, non-cyclists hold contradictory views of cyclists: the messenger, the hipster, the Whole Foods customer and the simply rich.  What reinforces these stereotypes is that those who most vociferously oppose the bike lanes tend to come from what remains of the blue-collar class and groups like the Hasidic and Orthodox Jews who have large families that they transport in vans.  So, they are always driving, it seems, from one available parking spot to the next and, as they see it, the bike lanes take away those spots.  


The bike lane-haters who are actual cyclists don't dispute those objections, and in fact cite one basic flaw of most urban bike lanes:  They run alongside parking lanes and, therefore, directly in the path of opening drivers' side doors.  I've been "doored" a few times: on all except one of those occasions, I was riding in a bike lane.


Some bike lanes are badly designed in other ways.  The most obvious flaw, aside from the one I just mentioned, is that many of them go nowhere, end abruptly or in the middle of busy intersections, or are so poorly marked so that only those who already know where they are can find them.  


All of the problems I've mentioned actually make cycling less safe than it is in the traffic lanes of most streets.  And they indicate that those who design them know as little about cycling as transportation, in an urban area, as those who hate cyclists.

Classy Commuter

At this early stage of 2012, it probably wouldn't surprise you to know that most of the miles I've pedalled this year have been on my commutes.  That got me to thinking of some bikes I've ridden to and from jobs past.

Here's a bike I haven't thought about in a while:  a Miyata three-speed.  I'm guessing it was the 1981 model shown in the catalogue page above because it matches, in every detail, the bike I rode for about two years. 

It actually was a classy-looking bike:  Were I wearing suits to work, I would have had no difficulty riding it--or the ladies' (non-mixte) model were I wearing skirts and heels.  However, I was working jobs that had no dress codes, and even by those standards, I didn't dress particularly well.

Still, I recall enjoying the ride of the bike very much.  I think it had a somewhat tighter geometry than other three-speeds like the ones made by Raleigh, Peugeot and Schwinn.  Equally important, the frame was made out of lugged chromoly tubing, which was considerably lighter than the frames on those other bikes.  Plus, most of the components--including the rims, cranks, handlebars, stem, fenders and chainguard--were made from aluminum alloy rather than steel. 

Back then, 3-speeds (or any other commuter-specific bikes) weren't "hip:" thus, I was able to buy mine when it was about two years old for about 50 dollars.  (If I recall correctly, it sold for about 300 dollars new.)  Occasionally, someone would compliment it on its looks; more often, though, I found myself defending it when someone wondered aloud why I didn't get a racing bike (which I had, in fact, in addition to the Miyata three-speed).  And I enjoyed knowing that I was riding something not many other people--at least in America--were riding.

However, the bike shared one shortcoming with many other Japanese bikes of the time:  its wheels.  Japanese rims and spokes of that time were heavier but not as strong as their European counterparts, and the Japanese "stainless" spokes often corroded, even on bikes that weren't ridden in the rain and were stored indoors.   Within a few months, I had to re-spoke the rear wheel with a new rim.  In fact, it was one of the first wheels I laced myself. 

In lacing a new Weinmann concave rim to the hub, I discovered that the largest-gauge DT spokes available were too small for the spoke holes in the Shimano three-speed hub.  Fortunately, I hadn't tensioned the wheel, so it was relatively easy to unlace them and re-fit the hub and spokes with washers between the spoke heads and hub.  

Then I discovered that the Shimano three-speed hub simply wasn't as strong or reliable as the Sturmey-Archers on the old English three-speeds.  I don't know how many models Shimano made then, but the one I had seemed to be the only one exported to the US. This was in the days when Shimano was notorious for not making spare parts available.  So, unless you knew someone with a pipeline to the factory in Japan, you were SOL if something wore or broke down in the hub. And it happened to mine within a year after re-lacing the wheel.

I should also note that those were the days when Sturmey-Archer's quality declined precipitously, and I'm not sure whether SunTour was still making three-speed hubs.  Sachs, common on bikes in Germany and Benelux countries, was all but unavailable in the US.  So, if I wanted to keep the bike a three-speed, my best option would have been to find a Sturmey-Archer from the 1960's or earlier.   I never took on that project, for someone made an unsolicited offer of 400 dollars for the bike.  Being the Starving Artist I was then, I took him up on it.

But having that quick but classy commuter probably had more of an effect on me than I ever realized it would:  It's probably the reason I ride Vera to and from work now.  She's even quicker and classier than that Miyata could have been.

Riding Into The Sunrise...All Right, It's My Morning Commute!

OK.  So yesterday I embellished things just a bit when I said I rode off into the sunset.


Well, this morning, my commute took me into the sunrise.

I always thought it was kind of strange that when the guy got the girl, he rode off into the sunset with her.  I mean, if they're starting a relationship, wouldn't a sunrise be more appropriate?


And what about when the girl gets the guy?  Or when the girl gets the girl?


For any of those scenarios:  Should the guy-who-gets-girl, girl-who-gets-guy or whomever-gets-whomever ride tandems?  Or should they ride solo bikes abreast of each other?  Or single file--and who should lead?


If these questions are academic, well, I guess that's appropriate.  After all, I am riding off to teach in a college.


Into the sunrise.  In Queens, yet!

If the Other Shoe Doesn't Drop, It Popped Out of My Commuter Basket

I don't get sick often.  But it seems that when I do, I am ridiculously busy as soon as I get back to my normal routine.  And so it has been the last two days.


Well, at least I got to ride to and from both jobs today, and the other day.  Both days were full of fall colors and decidedly non-autumnal warmth.  Yesterday, on the other hand, we had weather that was even less autumnal, except for the kind of light we had:  Wind-driven downpours frizzed and soaked everything in sight so that even the reflections of sidewalks in the windows frizzed and soaked like cats dropped into swimming pools.


So...an unrideable day was sandwiched between two days of near-perfect riding conditions. I guess I'd rather have it that way than the other way around.


I was running a bit late this morning on my way to my regular job.  So I barreled down streets--including a stretch of one that looked like a washbord and made me feel as if I were riding on one--like a moonshiner on a backwoods Southern road during Prohibition.  I don't know whether it had to do with the vibrations or my blood pumping (or both), but  felt as if the things that had been making me sick were leaping out of my body.  


Even with all of the vibrations that shook me--and even though I was riding to work--I was enjoying the ride as if it were a foliage weekend tour in Vermont.  Inside one of the rear baskets, I carried a canvas tote bag that contained my students' papers, a textbook for one of the courses I teach and a pair of black patent slingback high heels.


The only problem was that when I got to work and reached into the bag, only the left shoe was in it!  I checked inside the bag and  in the area surrounding the spot where I parked my LeTour and up the block:  No luck.  I didn't have time to re-trace my route.


 So I was reduced  (literally) to spending the day in the black flats in which I'd pedaled.  They aren't bad-lookng shoes, and they're very comfortable.  And, to tell the truth, they really weren't bad with my outfit, which consisted of a plum-maroon cardigan with gray piping over a lavender blouse, a flannel skirt in the same shade of gray as the pipng, and a pair of sheer pantyhose in that same hue.  As one of my students said, it all looked "very elegant."  But the patent slingbacks with three-inch heels would have given it a bit more pizazz.


Oh well.  Maybe some kid along my route found that other shoe.  I guess if the kid were mine, I'd rather that he or she found a middle-aged woman's dress shoe in size 11 wide than a crack vial or shell casing!

New York: Where Utility Bikes Are Made, Not Born

In Amsterdam and Copenhagen, one is struck by the degree to which bicycles conduct the flow of daily life.  People ride them to go to work, to go shopping, to run errands, visit friends and to do go to all of those meetings, appointments and other events that are part of daily life.  And one thing that's gratifying is that in those cities, many people who ride to work and such could afford to drive a car.  To be sure, ten-dollar-a-gallon gasoline is a strong incentive to forsake automobiles for short trips.  But I think that in those cities, people also see the practicality of cycling:  In those settings, it's often quicker and easier to ride a bike than it is to drive or even to take mass transit.  

It's been a while since I've been to the Dutch or Danish capital, but from what I hear, cycling is still as prevalent a mode of transportation as it was years ago.

What's also striking is the fact that in those cities, no matter what a person's occupation or income, he or she is likely to be riding a bike very similar to whatever someone else might be pedaling to a job, a store or a friend's house. Some might have more elegant paint jobs or a few more creature-comfort accessories, but the basic bike doesn't vary so much.  By now, most Americans have seen at least an image of the prototypical Dutch (or Dutch-style) city bike.  On it, weight is seemingly no object:  Carbon steel bikes with internally-geared hubs are fitted with racks, fenders and other accessories made of the same material.  And, of course, they have full chain cases and the women's bikes often have dress guards.  Convenience for someone who thinks of him or her self, not as a cyclist, but as a waiter, bookkeeper, technician, accountant, artist, writer or any other kind of worker on his or her way to a job on his or her bicycle.  Or, he or she is a shopper, or a grandparent en route to see the grandkids, or can have any number of other identites--and he or she is using a bike as a vehicle (in the original sense of the word) to fulfill tasks, wants, needs, or pleasures.

What I have described is true, if to a lesser degree, in other European cities. And they have their own variations on the "city bike," which have evolved out of decades or even a century or more of cycling as a part of daily life.  A French city bike, as an example, is likely to be a bit lighter than a Dutch bike, and is as likely as not to have derailleur gears rather than an internally-geared hub.  This has to do with the fact that most French cities are at least a bit hillier than Amsterdam or Copenhagen. (Then again, most cities are.)  Plus, even though Paris, Lyon, Toulouse and Bordeaux are relatively compact, given their populations, they are still a bit more spread out than Amsterdam or Copenhagen.  

Even so, they are not as hilly as many cities in the Americas.  (Lyon is an exception; even Toulouse, which is in the foothills of the Pyrenees, is relatively flat.)  And their ideas about how to ride to work are different from those Americans who ride their bikes to their jobs.

Plus...Here's something I've experienced first-hand:  Their streets are, for the most part, better-maintained than those in American cities, or at least the ones in New York.  There, bikes "age" and get "weathered;" here, a bike that's ridden  and parked on the streets every day gets beat up.  And, finally, it seems that there's more bike theft here than in European cities.

So, while shops here have begun to carry bikes that are meant to be utilitarian commuters (like the Pashleys and Abicis), I don't see that they are becoming "consensus" commuters.  I've seen a couple of those bikes hee, and a few more that strive to emulate (or cynically copy the most obvious features of ) them, like the Breezers and the city commuters marketed by Specialized, Giant and Trek.  But I think that if they are going to become standard commuters' fare in this city, that day will be some time in coming.

New York is still a city in which bikes become, rather than are made to be, commuters or utility vehicles.  I realized this when I passed by the Bel Aire Diner, which is three blocks from my apartment.  I often eat there, and I pass it (or at least see it) nearly every day.  There is always a gaggle of bicycles outside

Yes, those really are delivery bikes:  The diner does a lot of deliveries and employs more delivery men (Yes, they're all male.) than the average restaurant. 

They're like a lot of bikes that are ridden to jobs, schools, appointments and stores:  Far from their original owners and purposes.  About ten or fifteen years ago, most bikes parked on streets were bike-boom-era ten-speeds (Some of which had been turned, whether or not by design, into single-speeds.); some were English three-speeds or imitations thereof and some others were lower-end, first-generation (early-to-mid '80's) mountain bikes.

These days, those bikes, like the ones parked by the diner, are likely to be mountain bikes from the early-to-mid '90's or thereabouts.  There are a few road machines, and still a few "classic" bikes from the '70's. Even many of the so-called "hipster fixies" started their lives as multigeared touring or racing bikes from that era.  

But, even with all of the students who ride to Pratt or SVA on "hipster fixies," or all the mountain-bikes-turned-delivery-hacks, there is still no signature commuter or utility bike for this city as there is for its European counterparts.  And, somehow, I don't think there will be, at least not for some time.   

Falling Asleep After Riding

Yesterday I biked to work after pulling an all-nighter.  Then I came home, and not long after downing a wonderful chicken and rice platter from The King of Falafel and Shawarma, I fell asleep. 

In a way, it's upsetting to know that I had fallen asleep after a mere commute on my bike.  Yes, I stayed up all of the night before and I'm not as young as I used to be.  But, still...I'm supposed to fall asleep after riding up and down mountains or a hundred-mile day on a bike laden with panniers and camping equipment--not from a mere commute.


I guess I haven't given up the notion that it's somehow more noble, or at least more fun, to fall into a long, deep sleep after an adventure or some eclat than it is to drift into (and out, and possibly into again) subconsciousness after mere routine.


Then again, last night's sleep was very restful and restorative.   And, when I got home last night, I was so tired that I wasn't thinking about the fact that I had what was basically a very routine day and ride.  It was thinking about the circumstances, and wanting to be in better shape than I'm in now, caused me berate myself today for falling asleep immediately after dinner last night.




Have you ever fallen asleep immediately after riding your bike?  What was that like?

For A Light, The End Is Style

Today, as each drop of rain pelted the streets, sidewalk and window, you could practically feel the steam rising. I didn't ride to work, or at all.  That meant, of course, that I took mass transit.  


It amazes me, even after all of these years of living in New York and having used the subways and buses, to see just how grimy the stations and other facilities can be.  Having had the opportunity to ride to work again only makes some of the stations seem even more squalid than they were before.  It only makes me want to ride to work all the more.


As you've seen in previous postings, I've added rear baskets to the Le Tour.  Soon I'm going to install a small (just enough for my pocketbook) front basket.  I've also attached lights to the bike:  a Planet Bike "Blinky" on the rear and two headlights on the front.  One is also from Planet Bike:  an LED light that can be used as a regular light or as a stobe.


But I also added something almost nostalgic and whimsical:

Cyclists of my generation will recognize it:  the Schwinn-approved "bloc" generator, which was made by Soubitez of France.  I had one on my Schwinn Continental when I was fourteen years old.  


One thing I liked about it was that using it with a battery-operated tail light eliminated the need for long wires to connect the generator with the light.  Plus, for such a small lamp, the light output was good, at least by the standards of that time.


I tried it the other night.  It's pretty good:  It will help me to see road obstructions and make me more visible to oncoming motorists.  But there still is a lot of drag, and the conventional tungsten bulb will never be as bright as a halogen, much less an LED, light.   Still, I've always liked its style.  And that's what really counts. Right?