Where The Ghosts Come From

 So where do “ghost bikes” come from?

An article in today’s New York Times answered that question:  The bikes are donated by shops, friends or located via word of mouth. Volunteer strip away parts line pedals to make the bikes unrideable, then give them that familiar coat of white paint.  The volunteers also make the signs that read “Cyclist killed here. Rest in peace,” that are usually attached to, or by, the bike.

In addition to describing how volunteers create “ghost bikes,” the article raises some important questions—and disseminates, if unwittingly, some misconceptions about why we’re seeing more “ghosts.” 

As the article points out—Vision Zero notwithstanding—2023 was the deadliest year for New York City cyclists since 1999. The vast majority of casualties were on eBikes.  But the article goes on to quote advocates and planners who say the network of bike lanes and other infrastructure is “disconnected.” 

Photo from the New York Times.

True enough, as I know all too well. But I don’t know how fixing that problem will make cycling safer for people like me, on traditional bikes, when much of this city’s laneage is dominated by eBikes and motorized bikes on which the motor is the sole means of propulsion rather than a means to assist pedaling. Too often, those bikes are ridden by “cowboy” delivery workers whose employers incentivize or pressure them to make as many deliveries as possible, as quickly as possible, safely be damned—or by young joyriders equally disdainful of the rules of the road.  Oh, and don’t get me started on how often drivers (including cops) park in those lanes or pull over to have their coffee and donuts. 

Also, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, the police—and very often, the public— blame cyclists who, if they don’t survive a crash, can’t defend themselves. (I have said that running down a cyclist is the easiest way to get away with murder in the US.) Never mind that the driver was speeding or ran a red light:  There’s an attitude that cyclists “have it coming to them” when they’re injured or killed.

As long as misconceptions and misguided policies shape efforts to make cycling “safer,” those volunteers who make “ghost” bikes won’t lack for work—though they probably would love to do other things, just as Robert Capa hoped to “stay unemployed as a war photographer “ for “the rest of my life.”

The Ghosts At Norwich

  “Ghost” bikes originated in Amsterdam during the 1960s. Anarchists painted bicycles white and left them on the streets for people to use.

Around the turn of this century, artists began to make “ghost” bikes from abandoned bikes, some of which were stripped of their parts.  They were purely artistic expressions until October 2003, when Patrick Van Der Tuin placed a white-painted bike and a sign reading “Cyclist Struck Here” on a St. Louis street. 

Within a couple of years, “ghost” bike monuments began to appear on streets in New York and other American cities. Soon afterwards, they started to show up in other parts of the world.

Nearly all of those monuments have been placed on or near the sites where cyclists were struck by motorized vehicles.  Members of the Norwich Cycling Campaign decided that members of their English city’s council need a daily reminder of the six cyclists who have been killed on city streets this year.  So, Campaign placed six “ghost” bikes outside the Council’s offices.

“Each of the white bikes symbolizes a failure to keep people safe on our roads,” declared Campaign chair Peter Silburn. He added,  “These deaths are not accidents, they are the result of policies that prioritize the convenience of car drivers over people’s safety.”

The Campaign wants the city to install more cycle lanes, lower speeds on urban roads and fewer cars. I hope the “ghost” bike installation helps to deliver the message—and results.

"D" For "Dahon"; "F" For "Folding Bike"

Some days, the gray cloudy sky spreads like a shawl over buildings and trees.  But today, it's like the proverbial wet blanket.


So, I thought this might be a good day to talk about a bike I owned and didn't care for very much. In fact, it's part of a genre of bikes I'm not really crazy about, but not because I have anything against the genre. Rather, I find the bikes within them are all wanting.


That genre is folding bikes.  I've often felt I'd like to have one, even though I'm not travelling more than a couple of times a year.  Once, I did give into my curiosity and bought one:  the Dahon Vitesse D5.

Part of my rationale for buying it was that I could fold it and bring it into the office I shared at the time.  I was indeed able to do that, and folding the bike was easier than I expected.  However, the bike was heavier than I thought it would be (I had to climb two flights of stairs to get to that office, and my classes.) though, to be fair, it may have been because of some of the things I added to it.


The bike came in a matte-black finish.  It's not exactly my taste, but I think it was the only color choice available.  Soon after I bought the bike, I swapped out the stock saddle for a Brooks B72 I picked up on Craig's List.  That gave the bike, to which I also added a rear rack, a surprising elegance.


You've heard the term "flexible flyer."  That's what some of us called certain bikes like the Peugeot PX-10E (which I'll write about in another post).  Well, the Dahon was like a Broken Flyer:  When it rolled, it gave a surprisingly nimble ride, albeit on what felt like a broken frame.  Again, in all fairness, every folding bike I've tried--even the Brompton--felt like it was pulled apart in the middle.  I suppose that if I weren't accustomed to high-quality conventional frame, I might be able to accept that quality.  But, after about a year and a half of commuting and running errands on the Dahon, I was still distracted by it.


Another problem I had with the bike was its transmission.  The Sturmey-Archer 5-speed hub that came with the bike was one of the most unreliable pieces of bike equipment I've ever had.  I never could keep it adjusted; nor could the mechanics at the shop where I bought the bike.  Someone suggested that the problem may have had to do with the fact that when the bike was folded, the shifter cable was pulled and twisted. I'm sure that was a contributing factor, but I noticed that even after adjusting the gears when the bike was unfolded, I experienced "ghost" gear changes while I was pedaling.  Even changing the shifter from the twist-grip style that came with the bike to a more traditional "trigger" mechanism didn't make the shifts more accurate or smoother.


But the fact that the frame folded wasn't the only thing that made it an unsuitable ride for me. One one of the last commutes home I took on the Dahon, a small pothole I would just barely have noticed had I been riding one of my larger-wheeled bikes swallowed the front wheel and threw me off the bike--in traffic.  Neither the bike nor I was damaged, and I sold the former soon afterward.


Perhaps one day I'll get another collapsible bike.  But, for now, if I can't take one of my own bikes on a trip (or if doing so is overly expensive or cumbersome), I'll borrow or rent.  Then I'll appreciate riding my own bikes all the more when I get home!

What Will They Accomplish By Cracking Down On The "Chop Shops"?

At least a few of my rides have included stops at flea markets.  

So why are they called "flea markets"?

Well, it's a translation of "marche aux puces", the name given to an outdoor bazaar at the Porte de Clignancourt, on Paris' northern edge.  It's been operating there since some time around 1880.

So why is it called the "marche aux puces"?  It was often said--sometimes, with justification--that items, particularly upholstery, sold there were infested with fleas.  

Not long before the market began to operate, the straight, wide boulevards lined with sandstone-colored buildings one sees all over the City of Light were first constructed.  To make way for them, old buildings on narrow, winding streets were demolished.  This left a residue of old furniture and other items out in the open, where they could have been infested with vermin.

There is another reason why people might have thought those items were infested with fleas:  The folks who salvaged them were, as often as not, themselves infested.  Not surprisingly, when Georges-Eugene, Baron Haussmann, executed Napoleon III's vision for modernising Paris, it left many Parisians homeless or simply destitute.*  During the city's transitional period, many such people had few, if any, other ways to generate income.

Homeless people all over the world continue to "pick up the pieces", if you will, all over the world.  In my hometown of New York, I have seen them selling everything from corsets to computers, from books to barbed wire.  And, of course, many pick up soda and beer bottles and cans, which they can recycle for 5 cents each, from trash bins.

In San Francisco, that city of entrepreneurs, it seems that some of the homeless have become small-time operators in the bike business:  They operate what detractors call "chop shops" from underneath bridge and highway overpasses and other semi-enclosed public spaces.  

While even homeless advocates admit that some of the bikes are stolen, the majority are the fruits of dumpster-diving, scavenging on the streets or barter.  Usually, the homeless or poor people who operate these pop-up bike shops fix up the bikes they sell or trade, or assemble bikes from parts found in various places or stripped from other bikes. 

Most of the complaints the city receives regarding these operations are not about the shops, per se:  Most people don't have a problem with people doing whatever they have to do to put food in their mouths.  Rather, many residents say that these vagabond mechanics spread their wares across sidewalks, bike paths and sometimes even into streets, making it impossible or simply dangerous to navigate.   

With that in mind, the city's Board of Supervisors is expected to pass a bill that would prohibit anyone from storing or selling the following on any public street, sidewalk or right-of-way:

• five or more complete bicycles
• a bicycle frame with its gear or brake cables cut
• three or more bicycles with missing parts
• five or more bicycle parts.

The prohibition would not apply to anyone who has a commercial license (which, of course, includes almost no homeless person) or a permit for an event like a bike rally or clinic.  The bill gives the Public Works Department authority to seize items deemed to be in violation of the code. If the owner of the items doesn't allow the PWD to seize the items, police officers can be called in.  And, the owner can appeal to have the items returned 30 days after the seizure and notice of violation.

Not surprisingly, small business associations support this bill, mainly because the "chop shops" often impede access to stores, cafes and other establishments.  Bike shops are among such small businesses, and support the bill for the same reason.  Interestingly, though, none seems to have made an argument that these shops are taking business away from them because of their lower prices, probably because people who would buy (or barter for) bikes from "chop shops" weren't going to buy their bikes in a bike shop anyway.

Also not surprisingly, this bill is adamantly opposed by homeless advocates, civil liberties organizations and the Democratic Socialist party.  Most interesting of all, though, is a letter of opposition penned by Jeremy Pollock. He writes as a ten-year member of the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition who, as he says, has had bikes and parts stolen and recovered a "ghost bike" from a homeless encampment.  

He effectively makes a point that the bill, should it become law, could violate the Fourth Amendment of the US Constitution.  He also decries the lack of collaboration between the city government and its citizens (especially cyclists) in drafting and voting on the bill.  

Pollock also expresses concern that enforcing such a mandate could make the already-challenging  jobs of DPW workers who clear homeless encampments even more difficult by making already-strained relationships between those workers and the residents of homeless encampments even more tense and hostile.  This will put a further strain on the DPW's resources, and will stretch the police department and criminal justice system even thinner than it already is.

Oh, and if the San Francisco Police Department is stretched thinner, it will dedicate even less manpower and fewer resources than it does to combat bike theft.  As it is, the Department--like others across the country--simply doesn't regard bike theft as a priority.  And, if it wants to combat bike theft, according to Pollock, "we don't need this cumbersome new notice of violation, we need SFPD to focus on catching bike thieves!"

*To be fair, Haussmann's work also made it possible, for the first time, to navigate Paris with relative ease, which helped Paris to grow as a commercial as well as cultural center.  When he widened the streets, he also added sidewalks, which made Paris the walkable city it is today. Moreover, his plan included other public works, including sewers, which greatly improved sanitation and the health of people, as well as a series of public parks and gardens.

Then again, he also made it all but impossible to mount an insurrection in Paris by widening and straightening those streets that could previously be barricaded--or used as escape routes by people who knew them.

Whose Deaths Should Be Commemorated?

 Although I consider myself a “99 percent” pacifist, I have the utmost respect for veterans.  It actually pains me physically to know that some are living under bridges, railroad trestles and highway overpasses. I’ve seen them while riding for fun, commuting or errands and have offered money, food, bottles to recycle or other items.  Sometimes they were too proud or ashamed (which are really the same thing) to accept; other times, I have discreetly left items or money to “find.”

I mention my attitude and relationship toward veterans in the hope that no one thinks I’m disrespecting them with the comparison I am about to make.

I do not support the removal of a gravestone or any other monument to any veteran—whether he or she died in battle at a young age or was an officer who lived to his or her dotage, and whether he or she was on the “right” side of a conflict. Most combatants are conscripted or join because of familial or societal pressures. They are all part of a carnage which I hope, however naïvely, will be seen one day as unnecessary as alpaca pantaloons.

Likewise, I would hope that all of the tributes—including “ghost” bikes—to cyclists killed by motorists are never removed.

Apparently, some person or organization in Austin, Texas doesn’t share my view.  “Ghost” bikes have been disappearing from the city’s streets.

Some people believe they are being retrieved for scrap metal, possibly by unhoused people. But there are also rumors that they are being systematically removed by city agencies or individuals who aren’t as in dire straits as the unhoused but don’t want to be reminded of any unpleasantness. As one resident whined, “A person died here, for heaven’s sake. Can’t you just let it be?”

I wonder whether that person would want to “just let it be” if the person to whom the monument was dedicated had died in defending the Alamo or slavery—which, if you read any history at all, you would realize are the same thing. 

 

An Orange Ghost Of Fashion Week Past

Appropriating a symbol can really be risky business---especially when the appropriator (Is that a word?) doesn't understand the symbol in question.

I think now of how the Navy contacted a certain musical group that had just scored a runaway hit.  They wanted to use the group's newest song in a recruitment video.  The Navy provided an actual warship and its crew, as well as production assistance, at the San Diego Navy base on the condition that the men in blue could use the song for free.  The group's manager agreed and production started.  Things were going swimmingly until one of the brass actually listened to the group's other songs.

If you know your popular music history, or are around my age, you might know that the group in question is The Village People, best known for their anthem YMCA.

A few years later, someone on President Reagan's re-election campaign had the brilliant idea of using a song with what seemed to be the perfect title.  From what I understand, a commercial containing the song was produced but wasn't aired because someone realized that the politics of the man who wrote and performed the song were almost the exact opposite of Reagan's.


That song, of course, was none other than Born in the USA by Bruce Springsteen.

The world of bicycling is not without similar faux pas.  One was committed around this time six years ago by fashion designer Donna Karan (DKNY).  In advance of Fashion Week, the company chained bikes to trees in the vicinity around Bryant Park, where the models walk down the runway.  

Possibly for the first time in her career, Ms. Karan's design team did something just about nobody liked.  The bike-haters (or, more accurately, those who hate cyclists) were predictably outraged.  But cyclists (including yours truly) were, probably, even more upset.  Some of us felt that DKNY was mocking (or, at least, didn't research) the Ghost Bikes.  

Perhaps the worst part of DKNY's gaffe was that they locked their bikes to trees.  By then, the Parks Department had posted signs and waged campaigns to discourage the practice, as the locks and chains sometimes damage the trees.  

To people like me who lived through the '70's Bike Boom, this spectacle was sad and ironic:  Many cyclists, in those days, took to cycling as an environmentally-friendly alternative to driving for commuting and errands, if not for longer trips.

The Ghost Of St. Patrick Bike

In New York and other cities around the world, one can find "ghost bikes".  They usually look something like this

and are dedicated to cyclists who were struck by motor vehicles at or near the spot where the "ghost" stands.

They are indeed solemn reminders of the dangers we face.  But why can't we have more monuments to show the joys of riding--or at least the spirit of cyclists

From Chrispins

especially Irish ones.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Splitting Vintage

Every once in a while, I'll walk by a seemingly-ordinary bicycle parked somewhere or another and, without knowing why, turn back to look at it.

That's what happened today at a local library branch.  This is the bike that made me backtrack:

At first glance, it seems like one of the current Merciers.  Not a bad bike, but nothing exceptional:  The welded Reynolds 520 frame sports a combination of inexpensive but functional components.  And the color and trim are rather nice but, again, not exceptional.

However, I noticed an interesting little detail upon looking at the bike for the second time:

The model name is "Galaxy."  Why would I notice something like that?

Well, as far as I know, when Merciers were built in France, there was never a "Galaxy" model.  However, another bike-builder--in England--offered a "Galaxy" model:

Dawes was a family-owned bicycle manufacturer based in Birmingham--the center of the British cycle industry--for nearly a century.  They were known mainly for their touring models; the Galaxy was billed as one of the least expensive stock (what the Brits call "off the peg") quality touring models available.

In materials, design and construction, it was very similar to the Raleigh Super Course, though the frame workmanship, in my opinion, tended to be a little better on the Galaxy.  Also, the Galaxy had, if I'm not mistaken, a somewhat longer wheelbase than the Super Course.

While not as popular as Raleigh in the US, many new American cyclists early in the 1970's "bike boom" bought a Dawes Galaxy as their first "serious" bike.  More than a few were outfitted with racks, full fenders (They came with useless half-fenders.) and lights and ridden on the Bikecentennial.  

What's interesting is that Dawes and Mercier--like Windsor--were bike brands that had somewhat-more-than-modest popularity in the US during that time. Now Chinese- and Taiwanese-made bikes bearing all three of those brands--as well as the hugely popular Motobecane--are sold on the Internet.  

Bikes sold under those brands in the US have no connection to the original manufacturers, which no longer make bikes in the countries in which they were founded.  Mercier, which had a successful racing team, went bankrupt in 1985; the same fate befell Motobecane, which became MBK and now manufactures motor scooters.  Windsor used to build bikes in Mexico based on European designs; its "Profesional" (note the Spanish spelling) was a knockoff of a Cinelli racing bike.  Eddy Mercx rode a Colnago bike bearing Windsor decals when he set the one-hour distance record in Mexico City in 1972.

So Dawes is the only one of those bike brands sold on the Internet whose original namesake company still exists. (Dawes bikes in the UK are sold by dealers and aren't the same as the ones in the US.) It's thus ironic to see the name of one of the most popular models in its history appropriated by a "ghost" bike label--that was based in France, no less!

Dawes Galaxy Road Test in Bicycling, May 1969

 

Another Ghost

 Yesterday I wrote about “ghost bikes”: who creates them and how bikes end up that way.

So what did I encounter on a ride today, near my apartment?

Unfortunately, this post is a sort of prelude to one I will write, if not tomorrow, then very soon. No, I am not ending this blog, or my others. Some of you may already have an idea of what it will be about.

Ghost Bikes: More Dangerous Than Guns?

When kids are shot to death in school, “thoughts and prayers” are offered. But when anyone suggests making it more difficult to obtain firearms—especially assault weapons—some of the same folks who grace those kids with their “thoughts and prayers”  grow apoplectic: They rage about “losing” their “Second Amendment Rights” and argue that a school shooting now and then is a “price” we have to pay for “freedom.”

I would bet that among such stalwart defenders of our “rights” are the ones ordering that a “ghost” bike be removed from its place by a school because students would be traumatized by seeing it.

This scenario is unfolding at Sugar Mill Elementary School in Port Orange, Florida. Tara Okhovatian placed the memorial to ShaoLan Kamaly, a 10-year old who was struck and killed as she rode her bike to school last spring. Okhovatian is a friend of Kamaly’s family and said her son loved playing with ShaoLan, who said she didn’t like princesses because they “don’t do anything but wait for guys to save them.”

Okhovatian tried to save her memory. But she has been ordered to remove the makeshift shrine or law enforcement would “retrieve” it.

Ah, where else but in Florida, where it’s easier to get a gun than almost anyplace that’s not an active war zone, but helping kids remember their classmate is deemed too dangerous?

What Makes For A "Bike Friendly" City?

Today begins National Bike Month.  And, the 9th of May is National Bike To Work Day.

From Sheepshead Bites

Here in New York I see many more people riding to work, shop and to conduct other activities of their daily lives than I saw twenty-five, or even ten, years ago.   Bike lanes, which were nearly non-existent just a few years ago, wind along the city's shorelines and cut across various neighborhoods and districts. Bike-parking facilities are being built, as well as kiosks for a bike-share program.

However, as I've said in previous posts, these developments don't make the city more "bike friendly" than it was in in the '80's or '90's.  Sure, more people are biking, and know people who are biking.  But you're just as--or perhaps more--likely to be harassed, spat at, cussed out or even run over. 

From my experience as a cyclist, I know that facilities don't make for an atmosphere in which practical, everyday cyclists can ride safely, let alone in a tolerant atmosphere. In the early '80's, I was living in Paris.  The City of Light didn't offer much more in the way of the facilities I've described than New York or other American cities had.  And motor traffic was just as heavy, if not heavier, in part because Parisian streets are typically much narrower than the ones in the Big Apple.  Yet I used to feel safer riding on even the main arteries, such as the boulevards de Champs-Elysees and Saint Michel, than I did on even the smallest side-streets in Staten Island or New Jersey.

What I've just said about cycling in Paris was also true of other French cities in which I've cycled, and in other European 'burgs.  

I've long felt that one major reason why those cities were more bike-friendly is that, in those days, most European drivers also rode bicycles. That is still the case in some European capitals, most notably Amsterdam and Copenhagen.  Once in a great while, a particularly obnoxious motorist would honk his horn repeatedly and shout things that Mr. Berlitz never taught his students.  Such encounters were far less frequent in Europe than they were in America, at least for me.  The European exchanges also seemed less threatening, whether or not I understood the motorist's language.  Even when they drove "close enough to tear off the back of my glove," as I used to describe it, I never felt that I would be turned into a road crepe because the European drivers seemed to understand bicycles and cyclists, and knew how to act and react.

Even with the exponential increase in the number of cyclists in New York and other American cities, the vast majority of motorists don't ride bikes.   For that matter, many of the pedestrians who fill New York bike lanes--and cross into them without watching the traffic-- also never ride. Or, perhaps, they think they're not going to be hit by a cyclist, or if they are, they assume it's the cyclist's fault.

While I'm happy to see bike storage facilities and some of the bike lanes (like the one that leads to the Queensborough /59th Street Bridge), I think we'll continue to see new "ghost bikes" cropping up all over town until we have a couple of generations of motorists who are also cyclists.  And New York and other American cities will be "bike friendly" only in comparison to other cities.  

Will This “Fake” Save Lives?

 By now, most of us have seen “ghost” bikes.

Because they are painted stark white and, as often as not, mangled, they are difficult to ignore, even if you’ve already seen many.

While they attract attention, it’s fair to wonder whether they have any effect on drivers, whether of motorized scooters or bikes as well as cars, trucks and buses. After all, as I have learned the hard way, even when cyclists wear helmets and follow all laws and safety procedures, they are blamed (especially if they are killed) even if the driver is intoxicated and blows through a red light at twice the speed limit.

But, if a potential victim is a child—especially the driver’s own child—could that change motorists’ behavior?

David Smith seems to think so. The Murray, Utah resident has constructed a “fake” memorial consisting of a banged-up kids’ bike wrapped in flowers and a photo of a young child* in an intersection in his hometown.

While there is no record of any car-bike crashes at the site, prior to or since the installation, Smith says he’s seen “people slamming on the brakes where they used to pump on the gas.”

While some may question the ethics of the “fake,” Smith says that posting it as he did nearly two weeks ago is better than “putting out a picture of a kid I know.”

Local police would not comment on the memorial.

*—The child in the photo is someone Smith knew and is now a woman in her 40s.

Their City Is Dying. Blame The Bike Lane.

Recently, another neighbor of mine lamented that the bike lane on our street--Crescent, in Astoria, Queens--is "ruining the neighborhood."

"How?" I asked.

"It used to be so easy to park here.  Now it's impossible," she complained.

I didn't express that I found her cri de coeur ironic given that she doesn't drive.  I believe, however, that she knew what I was thinking:  "When I did drive, one of the reasons I moved here from Manhattan was so that I could have a car.  So did a lot of other people."

To be fair, the reason she doesn't drive is an injury incurred in--you guessed it--a car crash.  So while I conceded that some folks--like the ones who pick her up for errands and outings--need to drive, I pointed out that others could do their chores by walking or biking and their commutes on buses or trains--or bikes.  "Didn't people find it harder to park as more cars came into the neighborhood."

"Yeah, but the bike lane made things worse."

In one sense, I agree with her:  the bike lane was poorly-conceived and -placed.  But blame for decades' worth of traffic and parking congestion on bike lanes that are only a few years old seems, to me, just a bit misplaced.

It seems that such mistaken vilification is not unique to my neighborhood or city--or to American locales in general.  In the UK city of Doncaster, "cycle paths, pedestrianisation and poor bus planning" are "slowly choking our wonderful city centre."  Nick Fletcher, a Tory MP, heaped on the hyperbole, begging planners to "reverse this trend" before "Doncaster becomes a ghost town."

What is the "trend" he's talking about?  The one he and others claim they saw unfold in nearby Sheffield:  a plan to turn downtowns into "15 minute cities," where all of the businesses and services a resident needs are within a 15 minute walk or bike ride. Fletcher and other conservative MPs see such plans the way much of today's Republican Party sees vaccination, mask-wearing during a pandemic, teaching actual history and science and shifting from fossil to sustainable fuels:  as "socialist conspiracies."

Doncha' no"?  They're part of a socialist conspiracy to destroy their city!

Where I live is, in effect, a 15 minute city:  Whatever one's needs, interests or preferences, they can be reached within that time frame, without a motorized vehicle.  Even midtown Manhattan is reachable in that time when the trains are running on time.  And in my humble judgment, Astoria is hardly a "ghost town."  Nor are neighboring Long Island City, Sunnyside or Woodside--or Greenpoint in Brooklyn-- all of which are, or nearly are, 15 minute cities. 

Oh, and from what I've heard and read, Sheffield and Doncaster are both "post industrial" cities in South Yorkshire.  Steel is no longer made in Sheffield, once the nation's center of that industry, just as coal and mining were once, but are no longer, synonymous with Doncaster's identity.  Both cities have endured losses of population that disproportionately include the young and the educated.  So it seems as ludicrous to blame bike lanes and bus routes, even "poorly planned" ones, for turning those cities into "ghost towns" as it does to blame a poorly-conceived bike lane for the lack of parking in a neighborhood to which people moved from Manhattan so they could have cars.

Bike-Outs: Super-Predators Wilding? Oh, The Menace!

They ride bikes together.

Oh, and those bikes are s-s-scary:  They’ve got fat wheels and look like Hell’s Angels motorcycles without the motors.

And the kids who ride them—T-they ride in packs and make a lot of noise.  A-and, you know, they pop wheelies and stuff.

They’re-they’re teenagers.  And they’re...

If you were in New York thirty years ago, you can fill in that last ellipsis.  Let’s just say they’re, um, darker than I am—and use words I didn’t learn in Spanish 101.

It seems that every generation or so, some j-school grads with too much time on their hands find new ways to whip up hysteria about groups of urban teenage boys being, well, groups of urban teenage boys.  The latest, it seems, is something that’s been dubbed the “bike-out.”

A Bike-Out?! Oh, my!

Indignation over boys riding modern versions of “Choppers” or “Stingrays” has been ignited by a 74-year-old man who was out for a stroll when, he says, he was attacked by a group of “lawless” teenagers on bikes.

My purpose is not to doubt the man.  One attack, however, does not a phenomenon make.  I am reminded about the hysteria about “wilding” generated by the Central Park Jogger case.

That assault was indeed brutal.  But a certain entrepreneur took it upon himself to take out full-page ads in which he demanded the death penalty for the alleged attackers:  teenagers whose confessions, as it turned out, were coerced and who were finally released from prison on the cusp of middle age.

I am, of course, referring to Donald Trump.  In his ad, he famously bellowed, "I hate them. I want to hate them."  

One thing you have got to say for El Cheeto Grande:  He knows how to play the media.  Or, at least, he shows what one can do with the media if one has, say, a couple of billion lying around.

The "bike-outs" are as much a phantom phenomenon as "wilding" was, and their perpetrators were just as mythical as Hilary Clinton's "super predators."  Those ghost stories (pun intended) involve urban teenage boys and young men who are black and Latino. The only difference between them, as far as I can tell, is that in one legend, the bogeyman show up on bicycles.

(Thanks to Eben Weiss for writing about the "Bike-Out" hysteria in Outside magazine.)

Stealing, And Recovering, A Memory Of Him

Yesterday I wrote about Kevin Hebert, the disabled US Air Force veteran whose specially-made bike was stolen--and, thankfully, recovered. In telling about his ordeal, I paraphrased Tom Cuthbertson, who wrote that stealing a bike from someone is one of the lowest things one human can do to another.

That got me to thinking about the question of whether some bike thefts and thieves are more depraved than others.  Almost anyone who rides a bike loves or depends on it--or both.  But some bikes, victims and methods of stealing provoke more disgust and outrage than others.

I'm thinking now about--are you ready for this?--the swiping of a "ghost" bike.  If you ride in almost any city, you've seen one:  painted entirely in white, usually with a sign commemorating a cyclist killed by a driver attached to it.  Of course, they're almost always locked to a signpost or other immobile object.  Even so, they aren't invulnerable to pilferage.  

Such a fate befell the "ghost bike" left at the corner of 134th Street and Pacific Avenue in Parkland, Washington.  Nearby, at 134th and State Route 7, 13-year-old Michael Weilert was crossing on his bicycle in July when a someone drove into the crosswalk and struck him.

As if losing her child weren't bad enough, Amber Weilert  went by the intersection, as she often does, and "was shocked to see it wasn't here" after someone cut the locks and absconded with the memorial to her son.

Fortunately for her, and her family and community, an employee at a local scrap yard recognized the bike and returned it to Weilert's family.

So...while stealing one bike might or might not be worse than stealing another, it's hard to think of a more morally bankrupt bike theft than that of a disabled veteran's wheels--or a "ghost" bike.

Pedals Worthy Of His Bike: He's Making Them

I first became serious about cycling as a teenager in the mid-1970s.  It seemed that every minute, I was learning about some brand of bicycle that wasn't Schwinn, Raleigh or Peugeot, and components--yes, I learned that most bicycles are made from components manufactured by other companies!  So, of course, I encountered all of the traditional European names like Weinmann, Mafac, Huret, Simplex--and, of course, Campagnolo.  Hey, Campy even made parts for high-performance race cars and NASA space vehicles!

Not long after, I would find out about Japanese makers of high-quality equipment like Sugino, Nitto and SunTour, whose derailleurs became my "go-to".  Nitto, Sugino and Campagnolo, of course, survive:  All except one of my Mercians is equipped with Nitto bars and/or stems, and Sugino cranksets.  Negrosa, my black 1973 Mercian Olympic, sports the same-year Campagnolo Nuovo Record gruppo (and Cinelli bars and stem) that came with it.

Sadly, the SunTour name lives only in mostly low-end suspension forks under the SR-SunTour brand.  Weinmann is a marque for mostly heavy and low-end rims made in China or Taiwan, and Mafac, Huret and other classic names are gone altogether.

Another name I encountered in my early cycling days is Chater-Lea.   By the time I learned about them, four decades ago, they were on the brink of extinction.  They would file for bankruptcy in 1987, and seemed to live on only in the memories of those of us old enough (in my case, just barely) to know about classic British bike parts.

Now, I have only seen a few Chater-Lea parts:  sturdy bottom brackets for those pencil-thin cottered cranks that found their way onto beautiful old English (and other) frames before cotterless chainsets (yes, that's what the English call them) took over the peloton and market--and, some beautifully-made pedals.  Their "rattrap" design was something like Lyotard's, but better, in materials, workmanship and aesthetics.

It seems, though, that Chater-Lea suffered the fate of Lyotard and other old-line bicycle component makers in the 1980s:  designs and market preferences changed, but companies like C-L and Lyotard didn't.  With the advent of mid-priced cotterless cranks and clipless pedals, the market for high-quality cottered bottom brackets and traditional cage or platform pedals all but disappeared.  In the meantime, companies that changed their designs and product lines, as often as not, shifted their production to low-wage countries. That is how nearly all of the British bicycle component (and a good part of the country's bicycle) industry, along with many of its counterparts in France and the rest of Europe, disappeared in the 1980s. 

Well, it seems that us old folks (OK! OK!) aren't the only ones who remember Chater-Lea.  Andy Richman, a Brit who lived and worked in Washington, DC, for a number of years, has returned to his native country to  resurrect the Chater-Lea name and oversee the design, manufacture and launch of its first product in more than three decades--and its first new product in more than half a century.  

Appropriately enough, it's a pedal.  But it's not any old crank appendage.  Even someone who's not a cycle enthusiast can see that it's made with better materials and more care--and purely and simply looks better--than your typical "rat trap", with all due respect to MKS (whose pedals I use).  The new Chater-Lea "Grand Tour" pedal is made from marine grade 316 and hardened 17-4PH stainless steel studded with polished brass rivets.  

Oh, and it's made in the UK--in Bristol, to be exact.  "This stuff needs to be made in the UK," says Richman.  It's "high-end, beautiful, artisanal," he explains.  "If jobs are going to come back to the UK, it's got to be for making this kind of stuff."

The new Chater-Lea Grand Tour pedal

Chater-Lea made "this kind of stuff" that was the class (along with BSA) of the bicycle component world.  Begun in 1890, it would branch out into motorcycle and car parts, and complete motorcycles and cars.  During World War II, it made parts for the Mosquito Fighter Bomber.  After the war, Chater-Lea returned to its bicycle roots and enjoyed prosperity during the 1950s but started to falter, along with many other companies in the British cycle industry, during the 1960s.  (Little did we know that all of those Raleigh and Dawes bikes we saw during the 1970s Bike Book were the shadows of companies that would "give up the ghost" a decade or two later!)  

Richman is himself a bike enthusiast who knew of the brand before his quest to revive it.  What motivated him, though, was a shopping trip in Brighton that took him to Condor, one of the premier bicycle shops in Britain.  There, he eyed a 1948 Condor frame and persuaded the shop's owner to sell it to him.  As Richman left the store, the owner remarked, "You do know there's really only one set of components worthy of going on this bike?  Chater-Lea."

Someone, I forget who, once said, "If I want to read a good book, I write one."  It seems that Richman knew that if he couldn't find "worthy" components, he'd have to make them.  And he's begun, with his Grand Tour pedal.

We Made It!

Lately my wireless connection has been misbehaving.  That's why I've posted only once this year before tonight.


At least I rode to work yesterday.  I'm teaching a winter intercession course at my "second" college.  They offered me a course before my main job offered me one, and I couldn't have taught both.  Plus, this course is an elective called Readings In Prose Fiction.  Basically, I can assign anything I want in it.  The other course I was offered was a required course in writing research papers.


The college at which I'm teaching is the one that had the full bike rack almost any time I rode in.  It's also the one where I saw a Pinarello parked in the rack.  That bike wasn't there yesterday.  In fact, I was a bit surprised to see any other bike at all.  Although the temperature reached the 40's (5-8 degrees Celsius), there were still piles of snow and ice around the edges of the parking lot, and at the bike rack.

Even if we weren't blessed with the remnants of last week's storm, there wouldn't be very many more bikes parked on campus.  The campus feels like a ghost town, at least in comparison with the regular semester.  To be fair, that's the case in most schools:  Fewer courses are offered, and fewer students attend.  As I understand, financial aid isn't available for students during the winter session.


Anyway, it's nice to be able to park my bike without having to maneuver others.  On the other, I miss the crowded bike rack:  It's nice to know that there are so many cyclists in the college.  Plus, the prof with whom I'd been riding home toward the end of the semester isn't teaching during the intersession. Sometimes I like riding home alone, probably because I interact with people on my job.  But I was enjoying the company of that other prof.  She and her husband had recently begun to take some longer rides on weekends, she told me.  


Somehow I imagine that she'd be riding in if she were teaching.  After all, she cycled through the coldest weather we had at the end of the semester--in a skirt.  So I know I wasn't the only crazy one in the college!  She has nicer legs, though. ;-)


Mine got me to work, which was about an hour and fifteen minutes from my apartment.  One other person at the college could say the same thing.

Will Cyclists Be Locked Down?

The news can hit close to home. Sometimes, too close.

By now, you've heard that the whole country of Italy is basically on lockdown, due to the coronavirus.  The prime minister has told people to stay home and that they need permission for "non-essential" travel.

Now an area of New Rochelle, about 35 kilometers from my apartment, is a "containment zone," where National Guard troops have been posted.  

I frequently cycle to or through New Rochelle.  My rides to Connecticut or northern Westchester County usually take me through one part of the city or another.  

Seeing how many Italian cities (and Seattle) have become "ghost towns", I have to wonder whether the New Rochelle quarantine will be extended--and to what degree will people's movements be restricted.  Will they stop us from riding our bikes?