Ex Cathedra: From The Saddle

As much as it pains me to say this, I think that switching from all-leather to “donut” saddles has worked for me.

My gynecologist said as much.  The last time I saw her, some of the tissue near my labia was torn and developed an infection.  This time, I didn’t have such a problem.  Rather, the stinging I felt was a yeast infection.  In addition to a one-dose medication, she prescribed less sugar and more yogurt for me. 

So, in that sense, the Terry Falcon X saddles I installed on Arielle and Tosca have succeeded for me.  I’m also starting to like their shape, which flares more gradually from front to rear than the Brooks saddles or the other nylon-based saddles, like the Fizik Pave (Here's a review of it.)  and Selle Italia Flite, I’ve ridden.  However, I’m still getting re-accustomed to the feel of thin (though dense) padding between a fairly inflexible base and a thin, stretchy leather cover.  I must say, though, that on the longest ride I’ve taken so far on either of those saddles, I didn’t feel sore.

I have installed a Terry Butterfly saddle on the Miss Mercian I’ve been building, which is almost complete.  (I’m waiting for the rack and I think I’m going to put wider tires on it.)  The Butterfly is wider, has a larger cutout in the middle and seems to be a bit more padded.  Therefore, I think it might be better for the Miss Mercian, which I will be riding in a more upright position than I ride my other two Mercians.  Having taken only two very short rides on the new bike, I’m not ready to comment on the Butterfly.

At some point in the future, I’ll say more about both saddles.  By then, I may have decided whether they’re keepers.  

(By the way, the bags you see under both saddles are Bike Burritos.  I highly recommend them.)

Killer Cyclists Invade Manhattan

They must be really desperate for ratings.

I'm talking about the local CBS news at 11:00 pm.  Last night and tonight, the program featured segments that made it seem as if cyclists are the greatest menace to this city since the 9/11 attackers.  


They shot footage of the scariest-looking messengers, the least attractive delivery men (Yes, all of the "rogue" cyclists were male.) and the most hysterical pedestrians they could find, and made it seem as if cyclists are all missles of hostility wrapped in lycra.  You would think that every cyclist has run a red light and hit somebody's grandmother, and that life in this city is about to come to a standstill because residents and people who work here are too afraid of crossing the street to get anything done.







Some years back, WNBC ran something similar.  The difference is that back then, there were neither dedicated bike lanes nor as many people cycling for transport as there now are.  So, if anything, I think that the WNBC segment was less hysterical, at least as I'm remembering it.  To see the current WCBS "report," one might think that bike lanes will take over all of the city's parking spaces.


Now, I'll admit that I've run a red light or two in my time.  But, tell me, what pedestrian--at least in New York--hasn't crossed against a red signal?  And do you mean to tell me that motorists don't run red lights?


Also, I would venture to guess that many more cyclists have been injured by motorists, or even pedestrians, than cause injury to non-cyclists.  That almost never gets reported, mainly because cyclists tend not to report accidents, even if they are injured in them, because so many of us feel that 
the police and other city authorities don't take cycling accidents--at least ones not caused by the cyclist--seriously.


That happened to me once when a pedestrian charged into the middle of a street and knocked me and my bike onto the pavement.  Luckily for me, at the previous intersection, the light had turned red, so there was no traffic behind me.  To this day, I shudder to think of what might have happened had cars or trucks streamed through that intersection.


When I told some policemen who were on foot patrol, they were for some reason convinced that the pedestrian, whom I had never before met, bore some sort of grudge against that I caused, and therefore I shouldn't have been surprised at what happened.  


It's funny that the so-called journalists never seem to find people like me, or the cyclist whom a cop pushed off his bike for no apparent reason, or the cyclist who was almost run down by Foxy Brown a couple of years ago.  If those reporters were to track us down, they'd find that, while we don't have the wealth or power of the Policemen's Benevolent Association or any number of other groups in this city, we are, for the most part, well-educated and very aware of our surroundings.  But that would be too complex for a TV evening news program, I guess.

Do The Laws Of Energy Apply To Cyclists?

Today, dear reader, I’m going to ask you to help me to solve one of the mysteries of the universe. 

All right, I was exaggerating just a bit.  But there is still something I haven’t figured out after more than three decades of cycling.

Here’s the dilemma:  Yesterday I rode for less than an hour, on flat roads.  Yet I felt more tired than I did after my ride to and from Connecticut last week.  In fact, I was so tired that I didn’t write last night. 

I don’t think I’ve lost any of my conditioning (such as it is) during the past week.  And, I don’t think the fact that I rode my fixed gear yesterday rather than my geared road bike (which I rode to Connecticut) should’ve made a difference.  If anything, my fixie is lighter, simply from having fewer components on it.  Otherwise, they are similarly built Mercians:  the geometry is slightly tighter on the fixie, but they are both built of Reynolds 631 tubing.

And I undertook both rides about an hour after eating breakfast/brunch.  Yesterday I ate a mushroom-and-onion omlette with corn tostadas and salsa.  If I recall correctly, I ate the same thing, or something very close to it, last week.

So why did I have enough energy after last week’s ride to make dinner but, after yesterday’s ride, I had some Chinese takeout and fell asleep shortly afterward?

Where In The World Is Justine Valinotti? Not In San Diego, That's For Sure!

Where in the world is Justine Valinotti?

You never know what worlds she’ll find when she leaves a gated community:

She might encounter all sorts of dangers.

Hey, she might even go to San Francisco!

She gets giddy and her imagination into overdrive and she starts talking about herself in the third person when she does crazy things—like seeing how many hills she can climb on her fixed-gear bike.

Don’t ask what possessed her to do that.  The sky was clear, the day was warm (though not overly so) and the humidity was low.  So we can’t blame the weather.

Maybe it has something to do with getting a new bike.  She’s waiting on a couple of accessories, and it will be complete.

So where was Justine Valinotti?  She wasn’t in San Diego, that’s for sure.

She took the first photo at City College in Harlem.

The “tiger” reigns over a community garden in a vest-pocket park at the end of Convent Avenue, a few blocks from the City College gate.

The downhill street is actually in North Bergen, New Jersey.  Yes, she went to all of those places today, on her bike.

Edvard Munch Comes Along For The Ride

Poor Edvard Munch.  People like me take a couple of Art History classes in college, and all we remember of him is one painting.

And that is the work I recalled when I came across this during my ride today:

Now, I don’t know much about his life.  So what I’m about to say is pure conjecture.  Somehow, because he painted “The Scream,” I don’t think he would have been averse to seeing something like this:

It’s a photo I took by the World’s Fair Marina, which is near Citi Field and LaGuardia Airport.  I saw that scene on my way home from Manhasset, in Nassau County, where my ride took me today. 

Why do I say he could enjoy that scene because he painted the scream?  Well, when I think of Munch, I can’t help but to think of another famous Norwegian who lived during his time:  Henrik Ibsen.  I think that Ibsen, because he was the sort of person who could so vividly portray hypocrisy and despair so well in his art, craved something better.  Literally and figuratively, the bleakness of the northern winter he portrayed made him crave the sun, if you will.  So it’s no surprise that after he wrote A Doll’s House, he spent most of the rest of his life in Italy.

I think Ibsen and Munch would have appreciated this, too:

However, I’m not so sure they would have wanted to accompany me on my ride.  In their day, cyclists rode “high-wheelers,” which could make even the slightest crack in the ground seem as if it had its own ZIP code and telephone exchange.  The streets in eastern Queens, near the Nassau county line, were more like washboards in some spots.

Anyway, it was still a nice ride at the end of a nice day.  Who could ask for more?

(The “scream” photo was taken at International Meat Market on 30^th Avenue in Astoria.)

My Philosophy (of Building Bikes, Anyway)

Velouria asked a very interesting question:  How and why do I make the choices I make when I build a bike?


In brief, I like both form and function.  I don't strive for a "retro" look, as I've found that trying to re-create the past--in any area of my life, not just cycling--usually doesn't work very well.  But it just happens that many, if not the majority, of the bikes and parts that appeal to me aesthetically are from, or inspired by, the past.


And there are some "retro" parts that, for me, actually work better than their modern counterparts.  First among them are steel frames.  All of my bikes are built on them.  I've had aluminum bikes and have never liked the ride, much less the looks, of them.  I've ridden, but never owned, carbon fiber bikes and have ridden carbon fiber forks on my own steel or aluminum bikes (though I don't ride any now).  They are light and, yes, I would ride carbon bikes if I were racing and someone were going to buy me a new one every year.  Which brings me to one of the reasons why I won't buy one: The hard-training, high-mileage riders who ride them seem to replace them every year or two.  As a writer and college instructor, I can't afford that!  


Plus, I don't care much for the way carbon fiber bikes look. 


Anyway...When it comes to components, probably the most "retro" things I like are downtube shifters, handbuilt wheels (as opposed to factory-built wheels) and pedals with toe clips and straps.  For me, they seem to be the most practical options.  


 Downtube shifters are much less expensive than STI or Ergo or any other "all-in-one" brake/gear levers.  So, if you take a tumble, you're unlikely to even scratch your downtube levers, and if you trash a normal brake lever, you can replace it for $20 as opposed to $200.


 Plus, I was riding downtube shifters long before the "all in one" levers came out.  And I ride friction (non-indexed) shifter.  Back in the day, that was the only option.  When you use it, you don't have to worry about parts compatibility as much as you do if you use indexed shifters.  My favorite of the old downtube shifters were the Simplex retrofrictions, which were also, to my eye, the prettiest shifters ever made. 

 I don't use them now because they seem not to work with more than seven speeds in the rear, and even seven is not an optimal setup for them.  On Arielle, I ride Dia Compe "Silver" shifters, which are more or less replicas of the old Sun Tour Micro ratchet shifters.  And on my Miss Mercian, I have an old Sun Tour bar-end shifter.  


I have owned and ridden the high-end pre-built wheels (e.g., Mavic Ksyriums and Heliums) and while they're light and, for the most part, of high quality, they take all sorts of non-standard parts like straight-pull spokes.  Replacements are therefore expensive, require special tools and sometimes can be difficult to find, in part because those parts are usually proprietary.  And some wheels, like the  type that were made by Spinergy, cannot be trued or otherwise worked on.  You wreck one of those, you toss it out.

If you have a wheel built from high-quality components by someone who knows what he or she is doing (or if you do it yourself), you are likely to have a wheel that lasts longer and can be worked on as needed.  Plus, parts like spokes are readily available and much less expensive.  On my Mercians, I have Phil Wood hubs, Mavic Open Pro Rims and DT spokes.  And my LeTour has wheels with Formula/Origin 8 hubs (a "flip-flop" freewheel/fixed gear in the rear) , Sun CR-18 rims and DT spokes.


And, after riding clipless for about twenty years, I went back to clips a few years ago.  I simply like the option of riding whichever shoes I'm wearing.  Also, I tend to wreck pedals, and clippable pedals are much less expensive than clipped ones.  I also tended to wear out cleats pretty quickly, which isn't an issue with traditional pedals.


At the same time, I ride modern components when they are clearly better than the older alternatives.  Three of the best examples I can think of are derailleurs, casettes and brakes.  Even the least expensive derailluers available today shift more accurately and smoothly than even the best of the older derailleurs, and moderately-priced dual-pivot brakes with Mathauser Kool-Stop salmon-colored brake pads are more powerful and provide better modulation than any older brake, and are about as powerful as cantilevers.  


As for cassettes:  If you are riding seven or more gears in the rear, they are much better than spin-on freewheels.  They provide more support for the cogs, which means less stress on the hub axle.  For the couple of years that eight-speed spin-on freewheels were made, bent and broken rear axles became more common.


That said, I use eight speeds. It provides a wide selection of gears, and the chains for them tend to last longer.  The more gears you have in the rear, the thinner your chain needs to be.


Of course, if you ride a fixed or single speed, you don't have to think about these issues.


Now, I like the look of many older "quill" stems.  However, having taken some long tours, I came to value the practicality of threadless headsets, especially after having a threaded headset come loose in the middle of the Massif Central, many kilometers from the nearest bike or auto repair shop.  To adjust a threaded headset, you need one or two large wrenches, which are not practical to carry.  On the other hand, you need only a five or six millimeter allen key to adjust a threadless headset.  And there are simply more threadless heasets and stems available.


Now, one area where I let form rule over function is in bike bags.  I much prefer the looks of canvas bags to their nylon or cordura counterparts, even though canvas bags are usually heavier.  But they also have another benefit in that they tend to last longer and are more adaptible.  Too many modern bags require special proprietary hardware and accessories to mount them.


As for aesthetics: For the most part, I prefer lugged frames, although filet brazing is often quite nice, and I've seen some pretty artful TIG welds.   I also prefer silver components. Polished silver is nice, but anodizing is all right, too.  Either way, silver looks classier than black or neon colors in most components. I'm not dogmatic about that, though, as you may have noticed from looking at my bikes:  I have black rims (with machined sidewalls) and black chainrings with silver cut-outs.  But in most other parts, I prefer silver.


So...I know that almost anyone who reads this will dispute at least one thing I've said.  That is your right.  But just remember that your riding experiences probably differ from mine.  I used to race, but I haven't in years.  And I've literally lived on my bike, and I live with them, so I tend to choose accordingly.  Finally, you may simply have tastes that are different from mine.  Chacun a son gout.

The Development of Miss Mercian

The new bike is coming along.  Today I went to Bicycle Habitat because they didn’t have any more one-inch headset spacers.  I had a few in my parts box.  From them, Hal was able to set the stem up to a good height.

Tomorrow I’m going back for to set the seat and handlebar positions, and Hal will tune up whatever else needs it.

The only disappointment so far is that the chainguard I wanted to use won’t work.  It’s beautiful…but, alas! 

(The above photo is from a February posting of Lovely Bicycle.) 

I guess I’ll be selling that chainguard, or trading it for something.  But everything else looks great, so far.  I might just do without a chainguard because the only truly effective kind is a full chaincase, which can’t be used with a derailleur.

Other shop employees and customers were admiring the bike.  When they found out that it’s mine, they all said, “Lucky you!” or words to that effect.

I rode the LeTour to Habitat, mainly because I didn’t want to change out of the sundress I’d been wearing.  It fell to my calves and isn’t tight.  But, surprisingly, I had more difficulty mounting and riding the LeTour, which has a mixte frame, than I had in riding on my diamond-framed fixed gear bike in a skirt and boots when the weather was colder.  Then again, the skirt was  shorter than the dress and, I think, flared a bit more than the dress does.  Plus, while the material in the dress is thin, it doesn’t have any stretch or “give.”   So I have to "hike" it to mount even the Le Tour.

The dress is a green print.  I have a feeling it will look better on the Miss Mercian, anyway. ;-)

A Fast Food Phantom Picnic In My Basket

I’m really glad to have baskets on the LeTour.  However, I never planned for them to be used this way:

I am torn.  On one hand, I am upset because, of all of the fast-food trash one could leave, the litterbug who found my bike had to leave White Castle’s.  On the other hand, the colors and graphics go very well with the bike.

The next time I park the bike on the street, I’ll leave a note that says, “No Dumping, Or I’ll Dump On You”—or something like that.

Miss Mercian Arrives

So…The day after I crossed state lines to ride my bike, I’m rewarded for my bad behavior.

My next bike has arrived.  The Miss Mercian I ordered back in February arrived at Bicycle Habitat.  Hal Ruzal, Habitat’s longtime mechanic and Mercian maven, has just unpacked it for me:

He wanted to leave it wrapped so it won’t get dinged if someone decides to move it.  It’s funny:  A frame is actually at more risk of marring when it hasn’t yet been built up. 

The finish is the same as on Arielle and Tosca, my other two Mercians .  My new bike will have many of the same components as those other bikes (e.g., King headset, Phil Wood hubs, Mavic Open Pro Rims, DT spokes).  However, the lady will sport “porteur” handlebars rather than the dropped bars on my other Mercians.  It will also have fenders and a rack, which my other Mercians don’t have.  Also, I will ride it with wider (700 X32 C) tires.

Getting a new bike is always exciting.  However, this one is special for me because it’s my first nice ladies’/mixte frame.  And I think of it as a birthday present to myself, even if that seems a bit self-indulgent. 

Finally, it’s my first new bike since my surgery.  And my three Mercians were all purchased in my life as Justine.  So, in a sense, they’re all mine in a way that none of my previous bikes, however good, were.

Crossing Another State Line From Memory

Is Arielle inspiring wanderlust in me?  Or does she have it all on her own, and does she merely take me along for the ride?

Today we crossed another state line.  So that makes two-- Pennsylvania two weeks ago, when I rode to the Delaware Water Gap, and Connecticut today—since my surgery.

Going to New Jersey doesn’t count.  Not really.  Or does it?  We New Yorkers sometimes say that Jersey is a foreign country.  I wonder whether the Brits say that about the eponymous island in the English Channel.  Although it’s a semi-independent part of Great Britain, it’s actually much closer to France and has a language--Jerriais-- that bears more resemblance to French than it does to English.

Then again, lots of people would like to think of anyplace where Snooki would live as a country different from their own. Otherwise, they’d start campaigns to deport her.

Anyway, I started my ride by crossing the RFK Memorial (nee Triboro) Bridge to Randall’s Island and the Bronx, through neighborhoods where women don’t ride bikes.  I made a wrong turn somewhere north of Fordham Road and ended up on a highway and riding a square around the perimeter of the Botanical Gardens.  From there, I managed to find my way to Westchester County.

For someone who lives in New York, I really don’t spend much time in Westchester County.  Occasionally a ride will take me to Yonkers or Mount Vernon, both of which are just over the city line from the Bronx.  But I never have felt much inclination to explore the rest of the county.

Part of the reason might be that my first experience of cycling in Westchester County came the year after I came back from living in France.  That in itself can make Westchester, and lots of places, seem like a comedown.  (I think now of the time I ate a particularly bad take-out dinner the day after returning from a cycling trip through the Pyrenees and the Loire Valley!) But I first entered Westchester County on a bike near the end of a cycling trip from Montreal to New Jersey, where I was living at the time.  I had cycled through some nice Quebec countryside, the Vermont shore of Lake Champlain and the Berkshires before entering New York State near the point where it borders on Massachusetts and Connecticut. 

That night, I slept in a cemetery that was in or near the town of Austerlitz, NY.  It was a clear, moonlit and pleasantly cool evening.  I had no idea (and wouldn’t find out until the next day) where I was, and I had almost no money left.  So I simply rolled out my sleeping bag.   I slept fine:  There was absolutely nothing to disturb me.  And I guess I was a good neighbor.

After all that, Westchester County seemed like just a place with lots of big houses and lawns and a bunch of golf courses.  It wasn’t bad; it was just a bit of a letdown, I guess.

Later, Westchester would become the place where friends of Eva, Elizabeth and Tammy lived.  And all of those friends didn’t like me, or so it seemed.  Going to their homes felt a bit like going to the in-laws’ or to a relative of one of your parents—and that relative didn’t like your other parent, and saw you as his/her child.

Fortunately, I didn’t think about any of those things today.  I didn’t see as many houses that seemed like ostentatious versions of houses the owners saw on their European trips as I recall seeing in previous treks through the county.  And, when I stopped in a gas station/convenience store for a bottle of iced tea, I saw the friendliest and most polite attendant I have seen in a long time.  He’s from Liberia.

I hadn’t started out with the intention of going to Connecticut.  But after stopping at the gas station/convenience store, I realized that I wasn’t far from the Mamaroneck harbor.  So I rode there, along a fairly meandering road where two drivers pulled over to ask me whether I knew how to get to the Westchester Mall.  It’s funny:  People assume that because you’re on a bike, you live nearby and are familiar with the area.

From Mamaroneck, I took another road that zigged and zagged toward and away from the shore of Long Island Sound to Rye.  There, I knew that I wasn’t far from Connecticut, so I continued along the road to Port Chester, the last town before the border.

I only took a few photos, and none of them came out well.  But that part of the ride was pleasant, even charming at times.  Then, after crossing the state line, I ventured up the road into downtown Greenwich.  I’d have gone further, but I started later than I intended to and didn’t particularly want to ride the last few miles of my trip in the dark.  I’m not adverse to night riding; I just didn’t feel like doing it tonight.

In Greenwich, about half a mile from the state line, there’s an Acura dealer.  Just up the road from it is an Aston Martin/Bentley dealer, and a bit further up the road are a BMW, then a Mercedes, dealership.  So, I’m guessing that the annual per-capita income of that town is probably not much less than I’ve made in my entire life.

On my way back, I rode down Huguenot Avenue.  It’s in Little Rock.  Actually, it’s in  New Rochelle, a town founded by the people for whom the avenue is named. (The town is named for La Rochelle, the French port from which most of them sailed.  “Rochelle” means “little rock.”)  If any of you recall The Dick Van Dyke show, which featured a young Mary Tyler Moore, you’re old.  Seriously, you might remember that the show took place in New Rochelle.  The town has changed a bit since then, as you can see from new structures like this:

It connects the local Trump Tower (How many of those things are there?) with another building on the other side of the Avenue.  I wonder whether cyclists are allowed to ride in it.