Protecting Yourself--And Your Riding Buddies

If you use fenders, you know that the front and about half of your rear fender help to keep you and your bike clean and dry.

The rearmost part of your back fender--and its mudflap--serve mainly to keep the riders behind you from getting splattered or sprayed.

In other words, a long rear fender and flap is a courtesy to your fellow cyclists.   If that's the case, there may be no more considerate rider than this one:

Protecting The Body (Or Bicycle) Electric

I can still remember when it was a big deal to see a Mercedes-Benz or BMW, much less a Porsche, on the road--at least here in the US.  I think I saw maybe two Jaguars before I turned thirty.

The joke was that you had to be really rich to drive a "Jag"--or to call it that--because you couldn't own just one.  The other was in the garage, especially after a rainy day.

One of my brothers told me that.  Back in the day, he fixed them, and other luxury cars, in a garage that catered to all manner of high-income (and high-maintenance) customers. He privately laughed at folks who spent $50,000 (probably $150,000-$200,000 in today's dollars) for "a car that doesn't start in the rain".  Garages that serviced "Jags" used to get death threats from customers who discovered its most unfortunate feature when the weather turned frightful.

The problem, according to my brother and others familiar with those vehicles, was the Lucas electrical system which, as one engineer joked, "hasn't changed since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution".  Another joke said that the English drink warm beer because Lucas makes their refrigerators.

From what I understand, Jaguars' electrical systems have been redesigned and better-protected against the elements. One would think (Gotta talk like the Queen now--she never uses first or second person!) that Jags, coming from soggy England, would have been so designed all along.

I got to thinking about that today when I saw a guy making a delivery on an electric bike--in a downpour.  I wondered whether any of those bikes ever shorted out or were otherwise disabled by the weather.

Apparently, it's happened--or someone has realized that it could: an e-bike shop near me is offering these shields:

On (Not) Riding In The Rain

As I’ve mentioned in earlier posts, every cyclist has his or her own opinions and/or personal policy about riding in the rain—unless, of course, said cyclist lives in a place where it doesn’t rain.  

Mine goes something like this:  If the rain’s so thick I can’t see out my window, I don’t go.  If there’s a steady rain and I’d planned on riding with someone who’s rarin’ to go, I’ll pedal through the precip.  On the other hand, if it’s very cold and raining, I won’t ride unless I must.

Probably the one other condition—besides zero visibility—that will keep me from riding in the rain is gale-force or near-gale force winds driving the rain.  Such conditions are part of what’s commonly called a nor’easter in this part of the world.  Such a storm is what combined with a Category One hurricane—you know, the kind pensioners in Florida endure like marriages in which they’ve grown miserable (“This is hell, but at least it will be over soon enough!”)—to give us Superstorm Sandy.

It was raining heavily when I woke up yesterday morning, and it continued through the day.  There was some hint of the wind that was forecast; by the middle of the morning it looked as if it would blow leaves off trees before they had a chance to turn color.  Even so, it wasn’t quite as strong as I somehow expected.

Did we have a “nor’easter” yesterday?  The weather forecasters said we did.  Somehow, though, I felt a little cheated: not only was the wind not quite as strong as I expected, but I think—perhaps incorrectly—that it’s too early in the season for a true “nor’easter”, which I associate with mid- to late-fall or winter.  (Sandy came just before Halloween.)  Still, I didn’t ride.  And I feel I kept to my unofficial policy:  At times throughout the day, it was all but impossible to see through the rain.

Rainy Day Non-Riding Blues

You know it's May, and you know you're a cyclist, when it feels strange not to have ridden to work.


That is how I felt today.  When I went to out this morning, what fell wasn't just the mere pitter-patter of a morning shower or a tingly, misty drizzle.  Rather, the rain fell so heavily I could barely see out my window.


The weather alone might not have dissuaded me from riding to work.  However, I had two far-flung appointments more than ten miles from each other, and each was more than fifteen miles from work.  Perhaps cycling to them would have  been a character-building experience, had I been younger.  But I wasn't thinking much about building character today.


As I rode the train and bus, I felt a little guilty--and, paradoxically, cheated--over not riding today.  I guess I'm greedy:  We had gorgeous weather this weekend and, of course, I did two longish rides.  So I wanted to continue the "high" I got from those rides.  


I  got to work and found only two bikes parked in the racks. One looked as if it had been there long before today.  Its owner could at least have given it the treatment it deserves: