Reserved For Birds And Angels

A bishop and a professor were discussing philosophy.  (I know, it sounds like the beginning of a really geeky joke!)  

The bishop averred that The Millennium was at hand.  Evidence of that, he said, was that everything about nature had been discovered and all useful inventions created. 

The professor politely told the bishop he was mistaken.  "Why, in a few years," he proclaimed, "we'll be able to fly through the air."

The bishop was having none of it.  "What a nonsensical idea!," he exclaimed.  "Flight," he tried to assure the professor, "is reserved for birds and angels."  Being the good bishop he was, he added, "To think otherwise is blasphemy!"

This story is rich with irony.  The encounter between the suffragan and the savant occurred late in the nineteenth century.  So, whether or not he intended it, the professor was as much a seer as a sage.  The diocesan, on the other hand, sounded more like a die-hard Luddite.

The name of the professor has been lost to history.  But the bishop achieved some degree of fame in his time, having attained a rather high office in the Church of the United Brethren in Christ, whose members included some rather influential Americans in a number of endeavors.

This bishop's sons were among them.  They first made something of a name for themselves in the bicycle business, which was would experience its first great boom not long after the bishop made his pronouncement. 

Today we know that bishop's name mainly because of his sons.  Even if you have never been anywhere near a bicycle, you've heard of them.  Since you already know their names, whether or not you know it, I will tell you who that esteemed ecclesiastical authority was:  someone named Milton Wright.

Yes, his two sons were those Wrights.  Of course, they achieved even greater fame--though not fortune--for doing what their father said couldn't be done.  Yes, Orville and Wilbur got to do what all kids, at some point in their lives, try (and, some would argue, need) to do:  They proved their father wrong.  He didn't deny it, but he never seemed terribly impressed.  

But, in one sense, he was right (pun intended):  Humans cannot fly--without some sort of device or other aid, anyway.  Even on a bicycle.

With that in mind, I have found the perfect headgear for him, his sons and everyone else, whether or not they've ever pedaled on the velodrome:

Google As I Say, Not As I Do

I was a hypocrite.  There was something I used to forbid my students from using.  Then, one day--you know where this is going!--one of my students caught me red-handed with it.

If you guessed that thing is a smartphone, you'd be on the right track.  I'm talking about something people often use on their phones--and tablets and laptops.

It's the conduit that led some of you, my dear readers, to this blog.

You guessed it:  Google. 

Larry Page and Sergey Brin, its creators, formally incorporated their company on this date, 4 September, in 1998. 

I learned of Google's birthday, if you will when I was--of course--Googling something. 

(What kind of role model am I?  I teach students not to verb nouns.  And I said I was "googling" something!)

It's quite a coincidence-- isn't it?--that Google's birthday is the day after that of eBay, which turned 20 yesterday.  It wasn't the first Internet search engine, but it was probably the first to offer access to so much of the worldwide web in a format that most people can easily use. 



Google's webpage, 1998

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, eBay seems to have been tailor-made for cyclists, especially those who are looking for parts and accessories, even bikes, that are no longer made or are simply difficult to find.  Google, I believe, has been a boon for cyclists in a similar way:  It has given us access to all sorts of information about bicycles and cycling. 

Cyclists have been using Google to look for assembly or repair instructions, check parts compatiblity , find bike clubs and rides, learn about an obscure bike brand and search for all sorts of other cycling-related information for more than a decade now.  All sorts of bicycle catalogues, manuals, brochures and magazines have been scanned and posted to various sites on the web, nearly all of which can be reached by Google. 


Messrs. Page and Brin certainly chose quite the date to turn their Stanford research project into one of the world's great cash cows.  Here are some other interesting and important events that took place on 4 September:

• 475 --Romulus Augustus, the last Emperor of the Western Roman Empire, was deposed when Odacer proclaimed himself "King of Italy".   According to many historians, this event effectively ended the Roman Empire.
• 1781--City of Los Angeles was founded.
• 1870--Emperor Napoleon III of France was deposed and The Third Repubic was declared. (This is the reason why Paris and other French cities have streets called "rue 4 Septembre".)
• 1888--George Eastman registered the trademark "Kodak" and received a patent for his camera, the first to use roll film.
• 1951--The first live transcontinental television broadcast took place in San Francisco. 
• 1972--Mark Spitz became the first competitor to win seven gold medals in a single Olympiad.

And...in 1957, Ford Motor Company introduced the Edsel. Oh, well.

Fun fact:  Have you ever noticed that the letters of the Google logo are blue, yellow, red and green?  Those just happen to be the colors of Lego blocks--which were used to build the enclosure that housed the first Google computer at Stanford.


 

Another Celt Blazes A New Path For Cycling--And Everyone

Now, on the day after St. Patrick's Day, I'm going to talk about another Celtic person in the world of cycling.

Unlike Sean Kelly, this person was from Scotland but lived in Ulster (a.k.a. Northern Ireland).  Another difference is that this person I'm about to mention never won any Tour jerseys or classics.  In fact, as far as I know, he never raced at all.  

But we should all be grateful to this person, who invented something that not only revolutionized (in every sense of the word) cycling, but the whole world. 

That last clue may have tipped you off.  Yes, this person's invention had to do with the wheel.  No, he didn't invent the wheel:  That came a few millenia earlier.  But what he did made the wheel--and the bicycle--versatile in ways no one could have previously imagined.

What's just as interesting is that this person not only was not a racer, he wasn't an engineer or a technical person.  In fact, he was a veterinary surgeon at the time he invented the thing I'm going to mention.

Early pneumatic tire.  From Dave's Vintage Bicycles

That thing was...the pneumatic tire.  Without it, bicycles are no faster than horse-drawn carriages--and wouldn't be able to traverse some of the terrain our bovine friends have trod for milennia. Ditto for automobiles:  They would have been all but useless, especially given the road conditions of around the time the gasoline-powered engine was invented.  And aircraft, at least as we know them, could not take off or land.

John Boyd Dunlop

 The man in question is John Boyd Dunlop.  As the story goes, his young son was prescribed cycling as a cure for a heavy cold.  Given the relative cost of bikes at that time, it took a pretty fair amount of audacity to complain that his tricycle--with hard rubber tires on iron wheels-- was uncomfortable.

No one knows exactly how Dunlop pere came up with the idea of bonding canvas together with liquid rubber to make an inflatable tube.  But he did and in 1888 he patented the idea--and, in the process used the word "pneumatic" for the first time.  

A local firm, W. Edlin and company, agreed to make casings for the new tubes and the following year, a well-known cyclist, Willie Hume, used the new tires to win a race at Cherryvale.  A paper manufacturer who was one of the spectators would buy Dunlop's patents a few years later.  By that time, he had moved to Dublin, where he manufactured bicycle frames in collaboration with a local firm, Bowden and Gillies.