Netting New Tires

 Formosa Tafetta.

Does it sound like the fabric in a gown a Chinese ambassador's wife (or daughter or girlfriend) wore to a formal dance in Taipei in, say, 1920 or thereabouts?

Well, you might find it in your next set of bicycle tires.

It's already in Patagonia's "Net Plus" line of clothing and accessories.

So what, exactly, is this wonder fabric?

Well, Formosa Tafetta is actually the name of the company that makes it--or, more precisely, harvests it from the sea.

No, there isn't some species of octopus or coral that spins silky threads into nets.  But the company's trademark fabric--Seawastex--is made from fishing nets recovered around Taiwan's waters.  Some were battered and abandoned; others were apparently lost.

Turns out, even in the tattered nets, up to 95 percent of the material is recyclable.  And, since all of them are recovered, and all of the work of converting them is done, in and around Taiwan, Seawastex has a 49 percent smaller carbon footprint than virgin-manufactured nylon.

At 2023 Taipei Cycle, the company showcased its new collaboration with well-known tire-maker Maxxis.  Sewastex will be used to make the casings under the rubber that meets the road (or trail).  Nearly all bicycle tires today have nylon casings.  A few high-performance tubular (sew-up) tires are still made with silk casings, which were once the gold-standard for durability and smoothness. (An old training partner of mine once proclaimed, "Riding silk sew-ups is better than sex!")  Fewer still are made with cotton.

Now, if I were riding those Seawastex Maxxis tires in the peloton, I could really say I was "catching" other riders and "netting" a prize!  

On The Hook: Old Inner Tubes

Nearly two weeks ago, I mentioned Nicolas Collignon's article, in which he expresses consternation and frustration that "sustainable" urban and transportation planning, too often, doesn't include bicycles.

The other day, I wrote about a rather surprising (in that someone hadn't thought of it earlier) way transportation cycling and sustainability have been integrated:  bike lanes with solar panels in the Netherlands and South Korea.

Today, I am going to present another, if smaller, way in which cycling and sustainability meet.

What I am about to describe is also rather surprising, but not because it hasn't been done before.  Rather, it seems almost-unexpected because it's an idea that seems to be revived and forgotten every few years--and because many people don't remember, or weren't paying attention to, its previous iterations.  What also makes the fact that it's not more common so surprising is that, even with all that we toss, I think we, as cyclists, are more conscious of, and conscientious about, recycling than most of the public.

Lots of replaced bicycle parts are tossed out every day, by shops as well as home mechanics.  Most, I imagine, end up in landfills.  Some, like old cables and housings, are difficult to re-use because the metal is rusted or has lost too much of its strength from the stresses of use.  But other parts can find new life in all sorts of ways.

One such part is an inner tube.  On my Bontrager Race Lite Mountain bike, I strapped a Pedro's under-seat bag made from an old air chamber. In it, I carried--you guessed it--a spare inner tube in addition to a patch kit, tire levers and the great Park mini-multitool. I've seen other accessories made from old tubes and once even wrapped a pair of handlebars in them.

Another way I've used inner tubes are as tie-downs. Think of a bungee cord without the hook:  I've strapped small loads to rear racks and have bound together all manner of items, on and off the bike, for any number of purposes. 

I'm sure I'm not the first to have used old inner tubes in that way.  But it took someone with a more inventive or entrepreneurial mind than my own to come up with the Daily Hook.

It's what it sounds like:  a section of inner tube with a hook at the end of it.

The difference, though, is that the hook is better-made and more practical than any you've seen on a bungee cord:  It's machined from aluminum and fits onto the end of the tubing section through a stainless steel backplate.  I would imagine that it allows the hook to be re-used on another section of tube when the original one fails.

Speaking of which:  Daily Hook's Swiss manufacturer claims--correctly, in my experience--that the tube section will last longer than fabric cords, which have a tendency to unravel or break.  And, if and when the tube does fail, the hook won't get tangled in your spokes or cogs because it has a spring clasp that holds it mechanically to your rack or wherever else you attach it.  Moreover, if your rack is anodized or painted, the finish won't be marred, as the hook is coated in grippy rubber.

The Daily Hook weighs about the same as an elastic cord of the same length.  Its only drawback, as far as I can see, is its price, though if it outlasts a bunch of fabric cords, it could be worth the investment.

And, of course, it gives old inner tubes new life. 

Any Color, As Long As It's....Plum?

How might the world be a different place if Henry Ford had said that a customer could have a Model T "in any color so long as it is plum"?

Better yet...What if he'd offered a bicycle in that one shade?  He did, after all, repair, design and manufacture bicycles before he turned his attention to automobiles.

The closest we may come to answering the answer to those questions comes in the form of RE:CYCLE, a bike just developed by the Swedish start-up firm Velosophy.

So how did plum purple (which, as you've probably guessed, I love) come to be the one and only color  you can choose for your RE:CYCLE?

Well, it just happens to be the color of the Nespresso Arpeggio pod.  Turns out that Nespresso, a Nestle-owned company, has been trying to encourage the recycling of its pods, which are made of aluminum.  Turns out, the metal can be melted down and recycled almost indefinitely, so today's Nespresso pod or Coke can can be tomorrow's Swiss Army knife bodies, fancy pen or--you guessed it--bicycle frame.  As Jimmy Ostholm, the brainchild behind RE:CYCLE, says, finding a way to convert the lightweight aluminum into a material rigid enough to meet bicycle maunufacturing safety standards "isn't rocket science."  The problem, it seems, is to get consumers to embrace the idea of re-purposing the containers that brought them their "morning Joe."

The bicycle's color isn't the only clue as to its origins.  The bell is shaped like a Nespresso pod, and the front carrier has straps to hold a take-out coffee cup.  

In case you're wondering:  It takes 300 of those Arpeggio pods to make one RE:CYCLE frame.  Oh, and it takes about 150 years for one of those capsules to decompose in a landfill.  It can be argued that we'd be better off if we didn't have single-use containers in the first place. (In 2016, Hamburg, Germany became the first city to ban all types of single-use coffee pods in its government offices.)  But given the numbers I've just mentioned, the RE:CYCLE, while not the solution to all of our waste problems, is an example of how we can move toward  more circular, sustainable ways of consumption.

And you can have whatever color you want...as long as it's plum!

Needy Kids Have Homeless Man To Thank For Their Bicycles

One of the best-known non-profit organizations in the New York area started because a homeless woman died.

On Christmas Eve 1985, Metro North Police ejected the woman from Grand Central Terminal.  The temperature outside had fallen below the freezing mark and the woman, suffering with pneumonia, returned to the terminal--specifically, to an area that, at the time, wasn't enclosed--in the early hours of Christmas morning.  

She fell asleep on a bench and never woke up.

If you've been in the Terminal recently, you've seen a well-lit terminal that, even when it's jammed with rush-hour commuters, really earns the moniker "Grand" with its ceiling mural and sweeping staircases. But when the nameless homeless woman died there, the mural was covered with soot (mainly from tobacco smoke) and everything else was covered with filth or worse.  

When the "Jane Doe" lived and died there, a man named George McDonald--a garment-industry executive--was feeding homeless people and even got to know a few of them.  They all knew about the "Jane Doe"--whom they called "Mama" and alerted him to her death.

She spoke little English; later, it was determined that she was an Eastern European immigrant.  She seemed to know almost nobody besides the other homeless people who frequented the Terminal--and Mr. McDonald.

Her death led McDonald to a career change:  He would start the Doe Fund, which he still co-directs.  The organization's work includes career training (as well as transitional work), education and helping to provide housing so that people like "Jane Doe" can break cycles of poverty and homelessness--as well as addiction and other problems.

Although the woman's death was a tragedy, it at least led to something that might help others in her situation.  The Doe Fund doesn't perpetuate her name (at least not the one she had before it was forgotten), but at least it helps to provide some people what they need--and what she didn't have.

In Asheboro, North Carolina, the death of another homeless person has led to a charitable program.  It's not as big as the Doe Fund--at least, not yet.  Maybe it never will be as big because its scope is different.  But it's at least an attempt to help some people who have very little.  And it bears the name of the man whose death motivated it.

Gary Long

Gary Long was known to area residents who saw him riding his bicycle loaded with aluminum cans he was hauled to the recycler.  As poor as he was, area residents--including congregants of the West Asheboro Church of God, which he attended--saw him as a generous man.  Matt Gunter said of Long, "His heart was, 'If I had a million dollars, I would love to give kids bicycles.'"

His metaphor might have been a bit jumbled, but Gunter's intentions were good--and he acted on them.  He's the pastor of the church, and he appealed to congregants for monetary donations. 

They gave him enough to buy 12 bicycles, which were delivered to the Salvation Army for distribution to needy children.

Gunter says this donation won't be a one-time event:  He plans to repeat it next year and in years to come.

Pastor Matt Gunter (left) and Luis Viera (of the Salvation Army) with bicycles donated in name of Gary Long.

He is doing it in the name of Gary Long, a homeless man who died on 21 October.  At least Gunter knew his name--which is more than anyone knew about a woman who died in the bowels of Grand Central Terminal in the wee hours  of a Christmas morning 33 years ago.

Meet Mr. Bicycle of Harrisburg

I can't begin to count how many times I've seen people riding bikes with quick release levers that were twisted shut without engaging the cam.  Or racks, fenders or other accessories or parts that were just a bump away from falling off the bike--or into the wheel. Or, worse yet (for anyone who's not riding on a velodrome), brakes that are improperly set up or adjusted.

Now I've seen all sorts of other problems on peoples' bikes, such as rusty chains and soft or flat tires.  But the other problems I've mentioned can result in accidents and injuries.

Ross Willard understands this.  About 15 years ago, when the retired railroad executive was volunteering with a food program, he noticed children riding bicycles with brakes that didn't work.  The Harrisburg, Pennsylvania resident then started to fix bikes on street corners, at community events and in other venues, using tools he kept in the back seat of his car.

Ross Willard

That toolbox in which he kept his wares became "a bigger toolbox", then "the van, the trailer and the warehouse".  The enterprise he couldn't contain would become Recycle Bicycle Harrisburg, which opened its first shop ten years ago.  He, the founder, still serves as its "chief mechanical officer."  And he operates a bicycle collection point, repair facility and teaching center for repair and maintenance.  

Recycle Bicycle Harrisburg has a "do it yourself" philosophy, according to Willard. There is no charge for any repair, or even a bike, but visitors (except for very young children) are expected to make their own repairs, with the assistance of volunteers.  And people can take bikes in exchange for helping with repairs or other shop work.

He sees an irony in all of this. "In a sense, it's socialism," he says.  "I don't own the bikes....the people own the bikes."  That ethos, however, developed out of a sense of personal responsibility bordering on libertarianism that was inculcated in him by his parents.  "If you see something that needs to be done, don't call the government.  Go fix it," he says.  "And that's what we do."

He started fixing bikes for kids because he saw how important they are to young peoples' sense of well-being.  "The bicycle is freedom," he explains.  "The kids need bikes to see the world." 

The same could be said for adults and bicycles.  In particular, Willard's organization has another "target audience" in addition to children:  residents of halfway houses.  A prison guard from Willard's church told him about the needs of those recently released from jail and prison.  Among them is transportation--to and from job interviews, work, group meetings and other required programs.  Most cannot afford a car; even those who can might have trouble paying for gas and insurance.  Also, "if you give them a car and the computer dies, they have gpt to pay somebody" to fix it, Willard notes.  But they can bring their bikes to Willard's shop as necessary.

Recycle Bicycle Harrisburg also provides other valuable resources for halfway house residents.  For one thing, they can perform their prescribed community service by volunteering in the shop.  And for those who are trying to build up their resumes, that work counts as experience.  And Willard is willing to provide them with a reference, which nearly all of them need. 

On top of everything else, the halfway house residents experience, like the rest of us, freedom while riding a bicycle--though they, having been incarcerated, might feel it even more intensely.  Also, for some of them, daily or several-times-a-week bike rides are the first regular exercise they've had for years, or ever.

For what he has brought to his community, parolees, kids and other residents of Harrisburg have affectionately dubbed him "Mr. Bicycle".

Cycling And Recycling

Whenever I can, I volunteer with, donate to and buy from Recycle-A-Bicycle.  They, like similar programs in other places, re-use old bikes and parts that might otherwise have ended up in landfills. 

In my mind, bicycles and recycling are always linked.  Perhaps that's because the time when I first became a dedicated cyclist--the 1970s Bike Boom--also witnessed the first attempts to make recycling a mainstream idea. The first Earth Day several years earlier got people (some, anyway) to thinking about the environment.   People started using words like "ecology" and "pollution" in everyday conversations and started to see the value of things like emissions standards.

The problem was that both cycling and recycling became popular mainly among the young, the highly-educated and the upper-middle-class (or what someone I used to know called "The Volvo Set").  Blue-collar families and communities almost never included cyclists who were old enough to have drivers' licenses.  Also, they, like many whose lives were day-to-day struggles to survive, saw recycling and environmentalism as trifles of the elite. So, when the oil-price shocks of the mid and late '70s sent gas prices to levels Americans had never before imagined, instead of cycling or walking to work or for errands, working-class people clung ever more tightly to their automobiles, and saw environmentalism and recycling as threats to their ever-more-precarious job security.

Ronald Reagan and his conservative allies played on those fears and overlaid them with the notion that conservation was inherently un-Christian. Also, during that time, the price of petroleum and other commodities dropped or remained the same (so that they essentially became less expensive to those whose incomes were rising).  That further eroded whatever incentive people might have had to conserve and re-use.  In fact, because the cost of finding new petroleum and other natural resources had declined, it was actually much cheaper to manufacture new plastic, glass and other materials than it was to recycle them.  

It was also during that time that the number of adult cyclists, and the bike market, stagnated or even declined.  Sure, some of us were still riding for fun and transportation.  But, for years, we rarely saw new faces among those who were pedaling to work or the park.

During the past decade or so, the number of people choosing bikes instead of cars or even mass transportation has increased, at least in large urban areas.  Paris and other cities began their bike share programs, and new bike shops opened with a (and some established bike shops shifted their) focus on "city" bikes and other utilitarian bicycles.  At the same time, people started to take environmental concerns seriously in the wake of unusual weather and natural (as well as manmade) disasters.  Cities and towns began mandatory recycling programs, and increasing numbers of people have begun to make (or try to make) more environmentally-conscious choices in the ways they live, work, shop and get around.

It will be interesting to see whether the current interest in cycling and recycling continues if prices of petrol or other commodities continue to fall, or if we manage to halt or reverse environmental degradation.