Monkey, Longhorn Or Ape Hanger

One of my favorite non-bike blogs is Old Picture of the Day.  Sometimes the images are worth looking at purely for aesthetic reasons; almost all of the others are interesting in some aspect of life, past or present, they reveal.

In each post, a (usually brief) comment accompanies the photo.  Those are worth reading because they convey "PJM"'s deep appreciation--and, sometimes, personal connections--to the photographs he collects and displays.

His post today included this photo, along with a reminisce about his own childhood bike, which was very similar to the one in the picture:

One thing I found interesting about the responses he got to his post is how they described the handlebars.  I have heard to bars like the ones in the photo referred to as "Longhorn" bars (even though I grew up in Brooklyn and New Jersey!)  and the bars on bikes like the Schwinn Sting Ray and Raleigh Chopper (the ones with "banana seats")as "Ape Hangers".  But one commenter heard them referred to as "monkey" bars".  What's really funny, to me, is that some of the adults I knew during the  '70's "Bike Boom" referred to the those funny-looking dropped handlebars on those newfangled ten-speeds as "monkey bars"--meaning, I presume, that only a monkey could ride them.

 

No Longer A Prologue To The Automobile

When you get to be my age, the beginning of a new year becomes as much a time for reflecting on how things have changed during your life as for thinking about the time ahead.

I was reminded of that upon seeing this photo:

During my childhood, bike-makers often tried to emulate motorcycles and automobiles.  The irony is that the less race-worthy the bicycle, the its maker tried to evoke racing motorcycles or cars in the paint, graphics and other details of the bike.

One classic example of what I mean is the Raleigh Chopper:

The "spoiler" on the rear, the racing stripe on the seat and the lines of the frame--as well as the front wheel that's smaller than the rear--were taken from customized racing motorcycles that were popular for about a quarter-century after World War II.

Raleigh's machine, though, was a kind of "mixed metaphor", if you will.  While it was supposed to appeal to teenage boys' yearnings for the kinds of motorcycles they saw in movies like Easy Rider, this detail comes straight from the "muscle cars" of that era:

Could the size and location of that lever have anything to do with the decline in birth rates among baby boomers?

A decade or two before Raleigh started making "Choppers", Schwinn, Columbia and other American bicycle manufacturers built lights and horns into fake gas tanks attached to the tube.  

1934 Schwinn AeroCycle in the Longmont (CO) Museum and Cultural Center

It seemed that the main purpose of those "tanks" was to hold the batteries (usually 4 "D" cells) required to power the light and horn.  I'll admit, though, that on some bikes--like the Schwinn "AeroCycle" in the photo--they looked stylish, and even beautiful.

The reason why bikes, particularly those intended for boys, were styled after cars and motorcycles is that, in those days, bicycles were seen as stepping-stones to motorized vehicles.  When teenagers got their drivers' licenses, they passed their bikes on to younger siblings or other kids--or else the bikes were discarded.  

That view of bicycles started to change around the time I was entering my teen years.  While many of my peers would abandon cycling for years, or even forever, after getting their licenses, others started to see the bicycle as something other than a pre-motorcycle or pre-automobile.  They continued to ride, if less regularly, after they began to drive.  And, of course, many would bring their bicycles with them to the colleges they attended, as cycling is often more convenient than driving on and around campuses.

Also, by that time, adults were starting to take up cycling.  A few went as far as to live car-free lives.  Such riders were, of course, not interested in bicycles that looked (and, in some cases, rode) like motorcycles or cars without engines.  Some were not interested in aesthetics at all, while others (including yours truly) would come to appreciate the cleaner and more elegant lines of lightweight bicycles.  

Now I see that those old cruisers and Choppers have become "hip" in certain circles, and that Schwinn, Raleigh and other companies are making modern replicas of them.  However, people--even pre-teen boys--don't view them in quite the same way as kids in my time saw the originals of those bikes.  Somehow I don't think kids today see themselves as "graduating" to an automobile from one of those bikes; if anything, I guess that they see it as a cool toy or accessory, or as their means of transportation.  And they know that they can choose to continue riding bicycles as adults.  Almost none of my peers thought that way when I was a child.  I don't think I did, either.

Half A Century On A Cruiser

Today I rode the longest distance I've done on the cruiser I borrowed from my parents' neighbor:  52 miles.  Given that it's designed to make the rider feel as if he or she is sitting on a sofa chair while the boardwalk goes clack-clack-clack under the tires, I feel good about the ride.

The bike I rode is certainly nothing like these, which I saw parked in front of a convenience store near the Old City:

At least, I got to St. Augustine faster than Ponce de Leon did when he was looking for the Fountain of Youth.

And I will say that even though I wrecked the original rear wheel, the bike is sturdy if flexy. 

If it had been about fifteen years ago, I would have tried to ride the bike across the moat just below the castle.  After all, there's no water in the moat and no water=no alligators. 

There is a dedicated bike lane for much of the length of A-1A.  One way in which drivers--even the transplanted ones--here differ from the ones in New York is that they don't use the bike lanes to pass or double-park.

Plus, the beaches, inlets, dunes and ocean are beautiful.  Here is a view from the bridge over the Matanzas Inlet:

Check out this formation on a nearby beach:

St. Augustine, in addition to the tourist traps one would expect, has some interesting establishments.  At least, the spirit behind them is not what you'd find in New York:

A Giggling Gator?  I'm having a hard time picturing it.  However, I have to love a place with a sign that says "Open when we get here\ Closed when we leave."


 

On A Borrowed Cruiser, Again

Another holiday with parents in Florida means...another ride on the borrowed cruiser.

A neighbor of my parents bought the bike years ago.  Now, at age 85, arthritis and other health problems keep her from riding it.  Now the bike's riders consist of me and a couple of her kids and grandkids.  However, I think it hasn't been ridden since I rode it at Christmastime.  That's the reason why she was surprised when I told her I'd done some repairs, including the installation of a new rear wheel.

Last time I was here, I rode a few miles on a flat because I was nowhere near an air pump.  I'd been riding a stretch of A-1A along the ocean, past Gamble Rogers State Recreation Area and a bunch of foreclosed-upon or otherwise-abandoned houses.  I once had a wheel from which spokes flew off at high speeds; I didn't have to ride at such high speed for them to fly off the wheel on that bike.

Plus, the old rear wheel had one of Shimano's old coaster brake/3-speed hubs.  It's one of the worst Shimano parts I've ever used or worked on:  the gears never adjusted quite right.  If you've ever had an out-of-adjustment 3-speed (Sturmey-Archers made after about 1970 never stayed in adjustment), you know that's not just an inconvenience:  You're pedalling hard or spinning fast, and all of a sudden, you find yourself in "neutral."  You push a pedal forward and your face hurtles toward a very close encounter with your handlebars. Or, worse things can happen.

Plus, as a long-ago shop mechanic, I learned that hubs have to make up their minds as to whether they're going to be coaster brake or internally geared.  From what I've seen, a hub can't do both well.  Usually, it's the gears that suffer.  At least, that was the case on the Shimano, Sturmey Archer and Sachs coaster brake/3speed hubs.

To my knowledge, Shimano doesn't make such a hub anymore--or, at least, not the model that was on that bike.  SA stopped making them, but have started making them again since the takeover by SunRace and the move to Taiwan.  Sachs, after taking over Huret, Maillard, Sedis and other French component manufacturers, was in turn swallowed up by SRAM.  I don't think they're making internally geared hubs with coaster brakes.

Anyway, the bike now has a coaster brake rear hub, an Alex rim (not as good as Mavic or Velocity, but better than what was on there) and DT spokes.  Plus, it has a Michelin mountain bike tire, albeit one of the cheaper ones.

So far, so good.  But now I'm going to reveal that I've spent too much time around messngers, hipsters and wannabes.

Actually, I installed that pink chain as a bit of a joke. I don't know whether the nice (She really is!) old lady from whom I borrowed the bike, or her kids or grandkids, will notice.  If they do, I hope they share my twisted sense of humor.

A Fisherman's Vessel

If you've been following this blog, you know that I cycle to and around Rockaway Beach fairly frequently.  In the summer, of course, it's crowded with swimmers, bathers and families.  However, at this time of year, one sees the more eccentric--and, to my mind, interesting characters.


One of them rides this bike:

Notice the hooks attached to it.  On them, he hangs the buckets he uses to haul his fishing poles--and, on his way home (wherever that is), whatever he catches that day.

I have seen him for about as long as I've been riding to Rockaway Beach--about two decades, give or take.  As you probably figured, this is not his first bike.  However, those hooks have been attached to every bike I've seen him ride.


In all of that time, I have not talked to him--or, for that matter, gotten much closer to him than I did the other day, when I took those photos.  Any time I've seen him, he's been fishing at the point where the surf meets the beach.




He would be interesting to talk to--at least to me, anyway.  But somehow I think he'd prefer to be left to his fishing.  Also, I imagine that he would find my style of, and reasons for, cycling to be utterly preposterous.  

Chacun a son gout.  Still, I'm always glad to see him.  Somehow I think the communities of Rockaway Beach--and cycling--would be poorer without him.

Bikes Under The Tree

From Tree Hugger

For many people, a quintessential childhood memory is one of finding a bicycle under the  Christmas tree.  One generation dreamed of a shiny Schwinn balloon-tired bikes; the next yearned for three-speed "English racers."  Then there were those who lusted after slick-tired "Choppers" or "low-riders" or cruisers with sweeping curves--and, later, ten-speeds, which seemed as fast and exotic as sports cars.

If you've ever found a bicycle under the tree on Christmas morning, you know that nothing--not even getting that custom frame you'd been dreaming about--is ever quite as exciting.  Perhaps things are different for the current generation, but for mine, and those that came earlier, a new bike was the ne plus ultra of rewards Santa (a.k.a., Mom, Dad or other adult) bestowed upon you for being a good little boy or good little girl.  Not that I was ever either one... ;-]    In fact, as an adult, I was once given a bike for Christmas for being naughty, if you know what I mean!


So, dear readers:  I'd love to hear about the bikes you got, or gave, for the holidays.