Convincing Me Otherwise

Every once in a while, I think about repainting Vera. The finish is pretty scraped up, though actually not bad for a bike its age.  Also, I think about having shifter bosses brazed on and having the cable tunnels near the top of the down tube removed, as I use a down tube shifter.

Of course, one thing that deters me from doing so is money: It hasn't been abundant for me lately.  But seeing this bike may also keep me from altering and refinishing Vera:

It's a Holdsworth from, I'd guess the 1970's.  At least, the style of the lugs and paint as well as the Campagnolo Record gruppo (with a Nuovo Record rear derailleur) lead me to believe it's from that era.

All of the Campagnolo equipment--including the large-flange hubs--seems to be original.  About the only deviations I could see were the replacement brake blocks (Mathauser Kool Stop) and a non-Campagnolo headset I could not identify.  The latter component might have been a British-made TDC headset, which was often supplied with English frames.

Even though the paint was worn away on some parts of the frame, I didn't feel that it was battered or decrepit.  Of course, the fact that someone is using it makes it seem contemporary and relevant. But there's just something about high-quality lugged steel bikes--particularly the British ones, in my opinion--that seems to age well.

Of course, they also give sweet rides!

From Wheels To Feet

Nearly every cyclist has had the experience of cycling, for the first time, some street, road, lane or landscape over which he or she had previously walked or driven.

Today I had the inverse of that experience:  Walking, for the first time, a lane I had cycled many, many times before.

Marley had a medical emergency.  To my knowledge, the only place where I could take him on a Sunday morning is the Humane Society, just a block away from the Manhattan side of the Queensborough (59th Street) Bridge.  The subway neaerest to me (two blocks) stops only a block from the Humane Society.  I reasoned (correctly) that it probably be a quicker trip in a car (assuming I could get someone to drive me on such short notice) or even a taxi, if I could find one.  

Riding my bike might have been even quicker, but rigging a secure way to carry him would have taken even more time, probably, than the ride.  Also, I wasn't sure of how he'd take to being on a bike and, because he was sick, I didn't want to the anxiety he was already feeling.

So I took the "N" train to the Lexington Avenue and 59th Street station. Marley will remain at the Humane Society's treatment center for two, possibly three nights.  That meant, of course, that today I returned home without him.

If I were to ride from the Humane Society to my apartment, I would cover about three and a half miles, which would probably take me anywhere between ten and fourteen minutes, depending on which bike I rode, how I rode and what conditions I encountered en route.  Walking, as it turns out, is slightly shorter, distance-wise, as I can walk up a couple of one-way streets (including the one on which I live) around which I would have to detour were I using wheels.  However, the walk took nearly an hour, or five to six times the time I would need to cycle it.

Those facts of time and distance came as no surprise to me.   However, I was not prepared for a sensation I had while walking across the bridge's bike/pedestrian lane:  I felt nearly naked, and a bit vulnerable.  The heat and humidity that smothered us for the past week finally broke today, so even more cyclists crossed the bridge, in both directions, than would normally transverse it on a Sunday.  The lane is just wide enough for about three cyclists travelling abreast of each other in either direction, and even though the lane is divided (with paint) between cyclists and pedestrians, it's all but impossible to remain in one way or another.  If you're cycling in one direction, you're going to dodge cyclists (and, sometimes, skateboarders and scooter-riders) in the opposite direction, as well as tourists taking in the panorama.

Back in the day, not nearly as many cyclists used the bridge as use it today, and there were no skateboarders, rollerbladers or scooters.  If I recall correctly, those of us who cycled, walked or ran used a lane on the north side of the bridge.  (I didn't use the Queensborough regularly in those days, as I lived in Manhattan, then Brooklyn.)  The current lane rims the south side.  If there is/was indeed a lane on the north side, I wonder why it's no longer open.  Did it fall into disrepair?  I think the number of cyclists who use the bridge (and walk) will continue to grow, not only because more people are commuting or going into Manhattan to shop, dine and such, but also becuase--in a phenomenon all but unheard-of two decades ago--tourists are actually coming to Queens. 

Therefore, if there is a north lane, it should be repaired and opened.  If there isn't, one should be built.  Then, those of us who ride, walk, run, skateboard or otherwise travel motor-free between Queens and Manhattan will have the same choice as those who take the Manhattan Bridge, which has bike/pedestrian lanes on both its north and south sides.

The Hope of the Tour

It seems that, barring a mishap, Chris Froome is going to win the Tour de France.  Just as Brits cheered his rival and fellow Engishman Bradley Wiggins last year, they—and cycling fans around the world—want to see Froome take the title this year.

Even more important, I believe, is another hope expressed by his admirers—and one in particular:  a guy named Stephen Roche.
 

He’s the Irish cyclist who won the “Triple Crown”—le Tour, Il Giro d’Italia and La Vuelta d’Espana—in 1987.  I am not the only fan who believes he could have had a career to rival the greats like Jacques Anquetil, Eddy Mercx, Bernard Hinault and Miguel Indurain were it not for a chronic knee problem.  Like them, he was a great overall rider who excelled in the mountains and on time trials.  Also, he was as conscientious about his training as any cyclist who ever lived.

The thing that true cycling fans loved about him, though, was his form.  In spite of his chronic injuries, very few cyclists have ever been as graceful and as powerful in the saddle as he was.  Whether he was on a hors categorie climb or riding against the clock, he always exhibited the same fluid, symmetrical pedaling motion.  And the rest of his body seemed to support it, in unison.

Stephen Roche in 1987

Near the end of his career, he faced accusations of doping that were never conclusively proved.  That was quickly forgotten and never seemed to cast a shadow over his reputation.  Plus, if you ever saw him ride, you'd know that he didn't need drugs to win.


 I think cycling fans always respected Roche because he won, or at least placed highly” In the “classics”—races like the Paris-Nice and Tour de Romandy.  In other words, he did not focus his attention entirely on le Tour, il GIro or la Vuelta and disregard the rest of the cycling season.  So, when Roche says that Froome is the "next great hope", or something to that effect, people listen.

He has expressed hope that Froome actually is, and will remain, the “clean” rider he so far seems to be.  Plus, from what I’ve read and heard, just about everybody who’s met Froome respects and likes him.  If he can win clean, he—as Roche points out—will be a great ambassador for the sport.