Why I Stopped Wearing Lycra

After I had been cycling a few years, I began to see lycra clothing.  That was around the early 1980's.  It seems that everything people of my generation have grown to hate, like synth-pop and techno music, shoulder pads and big hair, started around that time.

It was truly a case of apres lycra, la deluge or something like that. The old wool and cotton jerseys had their own distinctive styles:  Although they bore the names of sponsors, and were quite colorful, they could never be mistaken for anything but bike jerseys.  They were not billboards or movie trailers, or imitations of other kinds of clothing (including team jerseys from other sports).

I stumbled upon a page showing just how awful bike clothing graphics have become.  I think they've become so garish because lycra holds more different kinds of colors and dyes, and is easier to work on, than cotton or wool.  Anyway, here is my vote for the worst jersey--actually, the worst bike outfit--of all time:

And I certainly wouldn't want to wear the uniform of this team:

If I ever get married, I forbid my husband from wearing this:

And I promise not to wear this on our honeymoon:

Into The Wind, Again

In places like southern Italy and Greece, spring began a couple of weeks ago.  At least, it usually begins about the middle of February or thereabouts.


Here in New York, winter began yesterday.  At least, that's how it seemed.  We've had only a couple of cold (by the standards of NY winters, anyway) days, and practically no snowfall since, ironically, the end of October.


However, today the temperature dropped from its early-morning high of 45F (8C) to a couple of degrees below freezing.  As the temperature dropped, the wind picked up speed so that it was blowing steadily at about 20MPH and gusting to 50.


I did a couple of errands on Vera today.  Of course, that meant parts of the ride were absurdly easy, while other parts felt like a series of still photographs

From:  http://brucefong.wordpress.com/2012/02/20/9272/

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It got me to thinking of a couple of times when I spent entire days riding into the wind.  One in particular was particularly grueling.


Provence is noted for its mistrals, which come literally out of the clear blue sky.  One day I learned that the mistral, as we say in the old country, actually lives up to the hype.


I had been pedaling out of Arles after, of course, visiting everything that had to do with Van Gogh.  Perhaps it was endorphins--I'm pretty sure that the effects of the wine had worn off--that caused me to see something I hadn't seen, or at least noticed, before in my life:  The air was so clear that everyting seemed almost surreal.  The lavender fields were no longer simply plants growing from the earth, and the windows and grain fields didn't merely reflect the bright sunshine:  They all became forms of light and wind that filled me so that I felt, for a moment, that I was not inhabiting a body, much less riding a pannier-laden bicycle; rather, I was a wave of that light and wind.


And then, in a seeming instant, I was pedaling into a wind that whirled like the mirror image of a cyclone.  There were moments when I literally could not pedal at all; for much of the rest of the time, I moved slower than the snails in the ground.  I stopped in a solitary boulangerie in the countryside, in part for a respite from the wind and in another part to feed myself so that I could continue to pedal into it.


As tasty as the bread was, I couldn't digest it; my entire body, it seemed, had formed a knot.  Over the next two hours, I think I pedaled about five kilometers.  Even though I was young and in really good shape, it seemed like an accomplishment, given the relentless wind and that I seemed to be making one climb, however short, after another.  


Finally, I ended up in a town called Brignoles.  I had never even heard of the place; I don't think it was even mentioned in the guides.  What it had, in addition to a castle and narrow cobblestoned streets, were a some shops and a cheap, clean place to lay my head.  


When I set out the following day, the once-again-clear skies were preternaturally still, as if the winds of the previous day had never blown.  

Bike Electronics, Then And Now

One of my favorite cycling blogs, along with Lovely Bicycle! and Girls and Bikes is Urban Adventure League.  


Today's UAL post is typical in that reflects the creativity and humor of the blog's author, Shawn.  The post contrasts bicycle touring electronics of the 1970's with their counterparts today.

Actually, "counterparts" isn't quite an accurate term.  For one thing, cyclists today use many more electronic devices, on as well as off their bikes, than we did "back in the day."  I never had a transistor radio attached to my bike, but I carried one on rides that lasted more than a day.  They were the best one could do for weather reports and such.  


As for lights, the post accurately depicts their state in those days: bigger and boxier.  What it doesn't, and couldn't, show is that they were also far less effective than today's lights.  Halogen bulbs were available only in the larger sizes used in headlights for motor vehicles; they were not yet re-sized and otherwise modified for bicycle lights.  And, if I'm not mistaken, LED's hadn't been invented. 


One of the better lights I used was made by British Ever Ready Electric Company (BEREC).  

It took, if I recall correctly, two D batteries, which meant that it weighed a seeming ton.  But it did provide a brighter and broader beam than most other lights available at that time.  Plus, it came with hardware that allowed you to mount it in a variety of positions (including the built-in fork mounts found on most bikes sold in Great Britain at that time) and to remove it when you parked.  The latter, of course, was a useful feature for commuters who had to leave their bikes in urban combat zones as well as for cycle-campers.


BEREC also made what was, for that time, a nice, if heavy and clunky, tail light:

At the time this light was made, the only available flashing tail light was the Belt Beacon.  It was a great light, even by today's standards, but it was difficult to mount  and rather flimsy. (I broke two before giving up on them.)  On the other hand, the BEREC tail light, like the headlight, was solidly constructed and gave a good beam.

The other alternatives, in those days before halogen and LEDs, were Wonder battery lights as well as various generator-powered lamps.  Wonder lights were bright, given the standards of the time, though not as bright as the BEREC lights.  They also were much lighter and more streamlined.  However, they took a battery that only Wonder made.  If you were in France, that wouldn't be a problem, as it and the lights were made there and most shops in the country stocked them.  However, their availability was more sporadic in the States, which meant the batteries were considerably more expensive than the D-size batteries that powered the BEREC lights.

The first pieces of bicycle electronics I recall seeing that didn't have to do with lighting were computers that measured distance, speed and, in some cases, cadence.  They also measured the time elapsed on your ride.  The first such computer, to my knowledge was marketed by CatEye in 1981.  

Looking at it makes me think of the portable phones the Miami Vice cars. They are to today's "smart phones" as incandescent bulbs are to LEDs.  But they, like this original Cateye and the Commodore personal computers, were the the highest technology of their time.


What I'd really like to see are LED head lamps with the style of 1890's carbide bike lights.

I think there'd be room in it someplace for a cycle-computer with all of the modern functions!