How High?

 One of my favorite non-cycling blogs is Ephemeral New York.  Its author, Esther Crain, conducts walking tours that really give you a sense of how New York City’s history shapes its current landscape.

Last Sunday, I participated in one of those tours in which she pointed out some still-standing mansions on Riverside Drive and the sites of other grand houses that no longer exist.  Those buildings—and the river views—are among the reasons why I used to enjoy cycling the Drive before the Hudson River Greenway opened.

One thing that makes Riverside unique among New York City streets is the series of serpentine service roads that wind alongside stretches of the Drive. That made it possible for the families who lived in those houses to enter and leave discreetly, in contrast to the Astors and other old-money families who walked through their doors directly into the bustle of Fifth Avenue.

What I also found interesting is that the Drive opened in 1880, just as America’s first bike boom was about to explode. Those service roads made it easier for people to enter and leave their homes on their bicycles.  Also, as Esther pointed out, “something called the safety bicycle “ made cycling more accessible, especially for women.

Esther is as smart and engaging in person as she is in her writing.  But she admits she is “not a cyclist.” So she asked me what a “safety bicycle” is.  I explained that it’s what most of us ride today:  a bike with two wheels of equal, or nearly equal, size. 

That innovation was made possible by the now-familiar drivetrain of front and rear sprockets connected by a chain.  That made variable gearing possible. In contrast, high-wheeled bicycles had cranks and pedals connected to the front wheel axle. So, whether your bike was easy to pedal or made for speed depended on the size of your front wheel. As you can imagine, it’s not easy to mount a wheel that’s as tall as you are—especially if you’re wearing a corset and hoop skirts!

Anyway, as the safety bicycle democratized cycling—and, one can argue, Riverside Drive helped to make cycling more popular—the high-wheeler became a cultural artifact trotted out for parades, fairs and the kinds of rides we might liken to today’s Eroica events.

Even with its seeming impracticality, there are still people who try to make the tallest rideable bicycle possible. They don’t, however, build on six-or seven-foot front wheels.  Rather, they are more likely to stack bicycle frames or build a steel-girded structure—sort of like a mini-Eiffel Tower—and line it with a series of gears and pulleys to conduct the chains that connect the chainwheel on the crank the rider (way up above the ground) is pedaling with the cog on the rear wheel.

I used the Eiffel Tower analogy because the newest Guinness Book of Records entry for “tallest rideable bicycle “ is the result of a collaboration between two young French men, Nicolas Barrioz and David Peyrou. It took five years—including two years of actual construction—to complete their 25’5” (7.75 meter) tall contraption. They beat the previous record by one foot and two inches (35.6 centimeters)—which, perhaps, is comparable in scope to Eddy Merckx breaking the hour record by 3/4 of a kilometer.

Barrioz and Peyrou said the idea came to them the way all of the crazy and world-changing ideas come: over drinks in a pub. 

Down And Back

Today's post will answer a question that, most likely, you've never asked.

We've all seen someone ride a bicycle backwards.  At least, a bicycle as we know it, with two wheels of equal (or nearly-equal) size.

And we've all seen someone ride a bicycle down stairs. In fact, some of us (yes, I include myself) have done it.

But has anyone ever ridden a "penny farthing" (high-wheeler) backwards down a flight of stairs?

And, if they did, did they live to tell about it? 

Speed, From The Comfort of Your Sofa

In my post about the death of Prince Philip, I mentioned that he particpiated in one of the few genres of cycling in which I've never tried:  bicycle polo.

Now I'm going to talk about one of the few kinds of bicycles I've never tried:  the recumbent.

The "safety" bicycle, with two wheels of equal (or nearly so) size and a gear-and-chain drivetrain appeared in the late 1880s.  Earlier bicycles--the high-wheelers often called "penny farthings"--had a front wheel much larger than the rear.  The crank and pedals attached directly to the front wheel, so how high or low a gear you rode depended on the size of the wheel.  Typical front wheels were 60 to 70 inches in diameter, which meant for a rather precarious perch in the saddle.  The "safety" bicycle was a contrast to such machines.

Charles Challand's "Normal"

But not everyone liked the bent-over position of those early "safety" bicycles.  So, Charles Challand, a Geneva professor, created the "normal" bicycle--so called because it allowed the rider to pedal in a "normal" position.

Around the same time, Irving Wales of Rhode Island applied for a patent on a similar bicycle.  His bike, however, had an added feature:  a hand drive similar to the one on a rowing machine.  Though augmenting pedal power could make for a faster ride, hand power never really caught on.

Other tinkerers would experiment with other features, which re-appear from time to time on modern recumbents:  An Italian recumbent had a steering wheel instead of handlebars; an English machine had a 16 inch front wheel and short wheelbase, rather like a time trial or triathlon bike.  A long-wheelbase recumbent from France, possibly made by Peugeot, had a 26-inch rear wheel and 22-inch front, with a front end resembling that of a diamond-frame safety bike.  But the handlebars were where the saddle of a safety would have been; bridle rods linked them to the steerer (headset). 

That long-wheelbase recumbent might have been the most conspicuous example of what recumbent bike designers have tried to achieve:  a smooth, stable ride from the comfort of your sofa.

Paul Jaray's "Sofa" bicycle

Speaking of which:  In 1921, Austrian aeronautical engineer Paul Jaray created the "sofa" bicycle.  In addition to its seating arrangement, it boasted another unique feature:  treadle drive.  On his first stereotype, Jaray connected the treadles to the rear wheel by steel cables with return springs.  

In a later version, a cable from the left treadle lever wound several times around a left drum on the rear hub, then onto a horizontal pulley, and then onto a right drum.  After several more winds, the cable connected to the right treadle lever.  This might seem complicated, but it did away with the "dead center" problem of the first stereotype.

Over the years, other cyclists, engineers, inventors and tinkerers experimented with different recumbent designs.  Two developments, though, halted the machines' evolution for a few decades.  The first came in 1934, when the UCI published a new definition of racing bikes that, some said, was crafted specifically to exclude recumbents, which were being ridden to record times and distances.  The second was World War II.  

Still, the recumbent never quite faded away.  There seems to be renewed interest in them, and they're being reconfigured with modern materials and componentry.  One rarely, if ever, sees recumbents here in New York or in other large cities, I believe, because of their (and their riders') lack of visibility in traffic.  But I intend to ride a "sofa" one day.

How Gentlemen Travel

We've all seen images of well-dressed, tophatted men astride high-wheel bicycles during cycling's first heyday.

We all know that those high-wheelers disappeared once the "safety" bicycle--with two wheels more of the same size, the rear driven by a chain and sprockets--was invented.

What if the bicycle "evolved" in a different direction?  How would the world be a different place?

Could we be looking at well-tailored gentlemen (and ladies) on unicycles?

Artists: Guy and Rodd

Would Fat Have Become A Fad?

Practically from the moment Specialized introduced the "Stumpjumper" in 1981, would-be pundits said that mountain bikes were a "fad."  Some of those wise folk were in Schwinn's management, which may be a reason why the company filed for bankruptcy a decade later.

Anyway, any number of things in the bike world have been called "fads" almost from the moment they saw the light of day.  One of them is the "fat bike", which typically sports tires 3 inches or more in width.  Although I have never ridden, and probably won't ride, such a bike myself, I am not about to sound its death knell, even if most examples of the genre I've seen don't exactly fit in with my sense of aesthetics.

Still, though, I have to wonder whether "fat bikes" would have endured had they been introduced, say, 130 years ago. 

That is about the time "safety" bicycles appeared.  They are like the machines most of us ride today:  two wheels of the same size powered by a chain-driven drivetrain.  Before that, cyclists mounted "penny-farthings" with front wheels of 60 to 80 inches (150 to 200 centimeters).  Could such a bike have been made "fat"?

Looking at that photo, I can't help but to think that perhaps "fat" bikes would have been a fad that disappeared, say around 1890 if the first "fatties" had been high-wheelers!

Turn, Turn, Turn (Apologies To The Byrds)

I used to know somebody who said she had "tried riding a bike" a number of times.  The reason she never stuck with it, she said, is that she could "only ride straight ahead."  The reason, she said, is that she "never learned how to turn".

This guy seems to have the same problem:

Out Of Time, A Family Affair

Do lycra and high-wheelers mix?

Of course, we all know Sunday is for family rides:

Motor Doping In 1865?

Yesterday, I indulged in a bit of "What If?"cycling history.  If Greg LeMond hadn't won the 1986 Tour, would Americans be aware of bike racing at all?  If he hadn't finished--and won--the 1989 Tour in such dramatic fashion, would many Americans care?  And, if Lance hadn't raced from 1999 to 2005, would any cyclist have become a celebrity in the US?

Now, I'm going to engage in a bit of "What If?" about the bicycle itself.

What if the "safety" bicycle--one with two wheels of equal (or nearly equal) size, i.e., what most of us ride today--hadn't been invented?  What if we were still riding "penny farthings":  bikes with on which the pedals and cranks are affixed to the axle of the front wheel, which is usually much bigger than the rear?

Well, for one thing, to obtain a gear anything like what I ride normally, I would need a front wheel that's as tall--or even a bit taller--than I am!  So would most cyclists, I believe.  Since I have never ridden a "penny farthing", I can only imagine how it feels.  My guess is that it's something like riding a fixed-gear bike that's a few sizes too large.  Riding a fixie on a frame that's a couple of centimeters too high is difficult enough; I don't want to think about what it would be like on a bike that's about twice as high as what I ride!

I won't even try to conceive of what it would be like to ride such a bike with a motor.

Apparently, though, someone has thought about it.  

The designers of Ding3000, a German design studio, worked with BASF to come up with what riders in the Tour, Giro and Vuelta might be riding if someone hadn't realized that a bike with two wheels the same size and a gear-and-chain drive is safer and more efficient than a bike with a very tall front wheel.

You see, this bike not only has a motor in it (which makes the latest form of "doping" possible), it is made of "thermoplastic polyurethane".  Now, we all know that the carbon fiber tubes used in bike frames are woven strands bound together with a resin (plastic).  So, in terms of technology, the modern penny-farthing would seem to be a cousin-in-an-alternative universe to the bikes ridden in today's races.

But you could take this modern relic on your daily commute:  It is equipped with puncture-proof tires and integrated LED lighting.  And, I guess that sitting up so high on the wheel would make you visible to drivers!

What would it be like to see throngs of cyclists pedaling penny-farthings to work every day, or taking trips to parks and beaches?

Or--what if all of those guys (nearly all are male) who deliver pizzas and Chinese food were to trade their e-bikes or motorized bikes for the Ding3000-BASF concoction?

How Did They Stay On Track?

I have ridden on two velodromes in my life:  Kissena and "T-town".  The first time I rode Kissena, which is just a few kilometers from where I live, it more closely resembled some trails I rode in Vermont than any other track.  Another rider, who was a bit of a tinkerer, quipped that it was inspiring him to design the world's first dual-suspension track bike.  The Lehigh Valley Velodrome--commonly called "Trexlertown" or "T-town", today known as the Valley Preferred Cycling Center--was like a mirror by comparison.

Riding on both tracks gave me butterflies in my stomach, along with an adrenaline rush.  I don't know how fast I rode (Somehow, I don't think Chris Boardman or Francois Pervis had anything to fear!) but I know I was riding faster than I ever did on a road or trail--without even trying!  and at angles I couldn't even imagine myself reclining or sitting!  It was probably as close as I ever came to defying gravity.

One thing you have to remember when you're on a velodrome--or any time you ride a fixed-gear bike:  Keep pedaling!   If you stop, you'll fall off--and, if others are riding on the 'drome, into their path. 

I have never ridden a high-wheeler ("penny farthing").  But I imagine that the same principle holds true:  After all, if the wheel is moving, so are the pedals.  I also imagine that if you suddenly stop pedaling, the resulting fall could be even nastier than the tumble from a modern track bike.

Perhaps one day I will ride a high-wheeler.  But I simply cannot imagine riding it on the track.  I wonder how these guys did it:

Whether You Autumn Or Fall, Please Don't Take A Header!

A few posts ago, I made a lame pun to explain why I prefer "autumn" to "fall", especially when it comes to cycling.

No one has ever autumned off his or her bike.  On the other hand, just about every cyclist has taken a fall.  

I have taken a few in my time.  None resulted in my missing any significant amount of time from riding. Ironically, the only injuries that kept me off my bike for more than a few days were not cycling-related.  Ditto for the one other event that kept me out of the saddle:  my surgery.

Of the falls I have taken, two resulted in my head making any contact with whatever I was riding, and fell, on.  

The first came when I was pedaling from Park Slope, where I lived at the time, to a school in the Bronx where I'd been conducting poetry workshops as an artist-in residence. I had just spun my way across the Greenpoint Avenue  Bridge and veered left onto Van Dam Street, in an industrial area of Long Island City, Queens.  About two blocks into Queens, a truck driver flung his door open, and into my side--causing the one and only somersault I've ever done on my bike.  Some would argue it wasn't a true somersault, as I didn't push my hands out in time to keep me from rolling on my head.

The second time, I was riding my mountain bike in Forest Park.  I was pedaling at  high-octane pace and was in my own little zone, not paying attention to my surroundings.

Well, in my path was a mound the BMXers used to flip themselves in the air.  I rode up on it--in the wrong direction, on the nearly-vertical side.  

Well, I flipped over. But I didn't flip back. Instead of landing on my wheels, as any of the 14-year-old kids would have, I came to earth upside down.

Those 14-year-olds rushed to my side.  "We really thought you were gonna die!", one of them chimed after helping me up. I never lost consciousness, but when I got up, I noticed that my helmet had broken.  In two.

OK.  So now you probably have figured out my position on helmets.  Yes, I wear them and encourage others to do likewise.  

Even though I had a helmet protecting me in each of those accidents, I count the lucky stars I didn't see when I feel that I have never taken a "header".  I hope you haven't either.

A line drawing of the world's first "header".  From Roads Were Not Built For Cars.

It seems that in the days of high-wheeled bicycles (a.k.a. "penny farthings"), "headers" were a fairly common occurrence. And, since cyclists in those days commonly rode front wheels of 60 inches (about 1.75 meters) or more, the impact from such a fall must have been even greater.  

Some would use the fact that people survived such falls as an argument against helmet-wearing.  That's a valid argument, as far as it goes.  However, there is also this to consider:  In those days, no one seemed to know much about concussions, let alone their long-term effects.

So...Yes, I will continue to wear a helmet as I cycle in autumn--and be grateful I haven't taken a "header".  At least not yet.

High Wheels, High Heels And Snow

"I have great respect for you, ma'am.  Anyone who rides today deserves 'props'!"

A security guard said that as I was locking up my bike at work.  The flurries that fluttered onto my helmet about five minutes into my commute had turned into harder, though not driving, snow.  Some of it was starting to accumulate, but I wasn't worried because the forecasts called for no more than an inch.  Plus, I knew that even if there were more on my way home, some of the streets would be plowed by that time.

It's funny that our first snowfall of the season came just days after I put a pair of Panaracer Tour tires, with thick but not knobby treads, on the LeTour.  In case you were wondering:  Yes, I rode to work in a skirt. But I was wearing fairly thick black tights under it.  On my feet, I wore my black LL Bean duck boots and carried my heels in a bag.

It wasn't an exceptional winter ride or commute, really, although I enjoyed it.  Still, whatever "props" that security guard gave me, I have nothing on these guys:

Now there's something I probably will  never do:  ride a penny-farthing in the snow.  But I guess the guys in that photo didn't have a choice, as the "safety" bicycle hadn't been invented yet.  And they were in Montreal.  If you're can't or won't ride in the snow, it essentially means that you're not going to ride in The City Of A Hundred Steeples (as Mark Twain called it) during the winter.

Spinning Out

The first time I rode downhill on a fixed-gear bike, I made the same mistake many other first-timers make:  I let allowed the force of gravity, rather than my feet, to determine the speed.  So, I soon found myself "spinning out":  My feet and pedals were turning so quickly that I lost control of them.  Even the brakes--the Mafac Racers that came with the old Peugeot UO8 I turned into a "fixie"--weren't enough to stop the bike when a Ford station wagon (remember those?) steered into my path.  Fortunately for me, my reflexes were much better than my fixed-gear riding skills!

I thought about that when I came across this:

From Funny Cycling Pictures

Those old high-wheelers were, of course, fixed gear:  When the wheels turned, so did the pedals--and vice-versa.  I can only imagine how much more precarious it must have been to "spin out" while perched five feet above the ground!

Back To School On Bikes

Now that the school year has started, I thought I'd post this photo:

No, I didn't take it.  (I did, though, take a photo of Abraham Lincoln on a bicycle. ;-))  It dates, apparently, to 1885.

It comes from the EarlhamArchives' Photostream, which is maintained by Earlham College in Indiana.  There are lots of other beautiful and interesting images there.  I actually thought this was one of the best, aside from the fact that bicycles are in it.

Taming The Bicycle

From High Wheel Bicycle

On my bicycle, I've raced, toured, commuted and delivered pizzas, books, payroll checks, blueprints, contracts, machine parts and a few packages with "don't ask don't tell" policies, if you know what I mean.


I've thumped along potholed city streets, rumbled down rocky hills, rolled along county roads and routes departmantles past fields, castles, cathedrals and through forests and villages. I've woven my way through pacelines and drafted riders I would pass and others who would ride in races, and in places, I have never seen.   I've cycled over ice and through fire.  (I'm not making that up!)  I've ridden alone, with friends, with lovers and after breakups.  And I've pedalled away from a person or two.

On the other hand, I've never done BMX, bicycle polo or paintball on bicycles.  And I've never ridden a high-wheeler, although I sometimes think I'd like to.  After all, my cycling ancestors did so.  They include Auguste Rodin, H.G. Wells and Mark Twain, who wrote an incomparable account of the experience.  


He tamed his bike the way he tamed just about everything else: with his wit and irony.  Really, I don't see how a cyclist can not develop at least a little bit of either quality.  

Getting On My High Wheel

Has anybody out there ridden a high-wheeler (or, as they were called in England, "penny-farthing")?  Every once in a while, I think I'd like to ride one.  


Of course, there's one logistical problem:  finding such a bike.  And then I'd have to get a pair of bloomers.  I suppose I could ride in a short skirt, but somehow that wouldn't be in the spirit of riding a bike like the one in the photo.