Before The Next Storm: Last Bike Standing

The week before Christmas, the bike rack was as full as it was in September.  Throughout this winter intercession, there have been two bikes--until today.  Then there was one:

Yes, that's Marianela.  She doesn't seem to mind the cold so much as being perched on a snowbank that's turned to ice.  She doesn't seem forlorn or lonely.  But I think she wouldn't mind a warm blanket and some hot cocoa.  There's noting like imputing one's own wishes to a bicycle, right?


Actually, if she had her own volition, she would've wanted to get home after seeing this:

That's the "It's gonna snow any  second" sky.  Light snow began to fall about five minutes before I got home.  If it snows as steadily and heavily as the forecasters expect, I probably won't be riding into work tomorrow. 


 Mine was the last bike standing today

Fixed On Ice

After the winter storms we've had, there are patches of ice and encrusted snow on little-used sidewalks and streets.  Fortunately, I did not encounter any of them on my ride to work this morning.  I also didn't find any on my way home, except for some I found along the path in Flushing Meadow-Corona Park.

Sometimes I like to detour through the park, even though it adds to my commute, because the park is both nice and has a lot of resonance for me.  If you saw Men In Black, you'd recognize it as the site of the Unisphere, perhaps the most iconic structure of the 1964-65 World's Fair, which my family attended when I was a child.  

Going through the park also allows me to avoid the area around Main Street in Flushing, where I encounter the heaviest and most chaotic traffic to be found between my apartment and my job.

But at least those streets are kept clear.  Such is not the case for sections of the park, which sees few visitors on weekdays in the midst of winter.  

As you may know, I installed a fixed gear on Marianela last week.  There's a very fine art to riding one on a glazed street or path.   

Of course, you probably won't embark on a ride across a glacier on your fixie, if you're going to ride anything at all.  But when you come upon a frozen puddle in your path, the best thing to do is to keep your line and move ahead.  

As best as I can tell, the way to do that is simply to release all of the tension in your muscles, at least to the degree that you can.  A white-knuckled grip will only make you more likely to skid and fall; so will any sudden attempt to stop or any attempt to accelerate.  

The best way to pedal is to let your legs continue to spin at whatever pace you were riding before you saw the ice.  Not only shouldn't you try to accelerate; you also shouldn't try to dramatically slow down (or stop) your bike.  You just want to let your legs keep up their momentum.  

Any attempt to accelerate or to make a stop will land you on your side, or some place where it will hurt even more.  So, for that matter, will making a turn.  If there's an obstacle on the ice, you're better off trying to ride through than to turn or slow down for it.  

Ironically, I took a minor fall today, but not on ice.  I was about fifteen minutes from home tonight when I somehow jerked my handlebar when pushing down on my left pedal after the traffic signal turned green.  I flipped onto my side, spilling the contents of my baskets.  Fortunately, two very nice young Asian men saw me and helped me to get up and gather the stuff that spilled.    They really must respect their elders in their culture!

Bonhomme de Neige, Au Velo

If you've ever wondered what I looked like when I was riding my bike during the winter, back in the day, take a look:

Feom:  "A Short Introduction To Cycling" 

OK.  So I didn't have as much of a sense of style as he does.  But what do you expect?  He's in France!


When I was a messenger, I did a fair amount of cycling in in snow and sleet.  Once, I had to make a delivery on a street that was a solid sheet of ice.  If I remember correctly, I was riding a three-speed bike with knobby tires.  Somehow I managed to ride, without falling, to my destination.  The man who signed for it gave me a tip and shook my hand.  From the expression on his face, I couldn't tell whether he truly appreciated my efforts, admired my endurance or was covertly ridiculing my stupidity.


Then there was the morning I cycled to work and it was 8 degrees below zero (Farenheit, that is).  At least it was dry and the sky was clear.  Plus, the fact that I was keeping a pretty good pace (Or was it the, ahem, substances I used to, ahem, fortify myself?) kept me from feeling the cold even more than I might have otherwise.  In fact, I felt colder while I was working:  It may actually have been colder in the automotive radiator shop where I did, basically, whatever found me.  I guess that was part of the responsibility that came with making 75 cents more, per hour, than the minimum wage at that time--and I was still in college!


Now, wouldn't you get up in the morning and ride half an hour in minus-8 for that?   The guy in the photo does it for less!

Decided: Crankset

I bought a Sugino Alpina for Arielle.  To tell you the truth, I knew I would.  I'd thought about getting a Velo Orange Grand Cru fluted double crankset.  But, even though I like some "retro" stuff, I don't do "retro" for retro's sake.  And that's what I feel the Grand Cru crankset is.  

But most important, with the Sugino, I know what I'm getting.  I've ridden several of their cranksets before, and they have always been good, functional items that were good values.   And the Alpina is definitely one of the prettier cranksets I've seen.


Now, I have some Velo Orange accessories on my bikes.  But I haven't used one of their major components yet.  (They offer brakes, among other things.)  If the crank were defective in some way, I'm sure they'd take it back.  


The difference in price between them is not great and therefore would not have been a factor in my purchase.  VO is selling the Alpina for $175 and their own crank for $190.  When I admitted to myself that I was leaning toward the Alpina, I found it for $150 at Ben's Cycle and Fitness Center of Milwaukee.  They sell on eBay as well as on their own website and in their store, and I've bought a few things--mainly track cogs and other track-related parts--from them previously.  


On top of the good price, I got free shipping via UPS.  


I think Arielle and I are going to be happy with the Alpina.

PC Bikes, Florida

Last week, while spending the holidays with my parents (and riding their neighbor's beach cruiser), I stopped in the local bike shop, PC Bikes of Palm Coast.


It's a small shop, but Jeff (l) and Jake (r), pictured below, are friendly and helpful.

They sell road, mountain and comfort bikes from Trek, Gary Fisher and Giant.  They also have, as one might expect in a Florida shop, a couple of adult tricycles.  But what I found most intriguing were the locally-designed Sun bikes, which I had never seen before.

This model seems like a cross between a mixte and a baloon-tired utility bike like the current Worksman or some of the old Schwinns.  I rather like the way the rear rack seems to be a continuation of the tube that intersects the top and down tubes.  


I really liked the looks of this one, though:

Although I didn't measure it, I am almost entirely sure that it has one of the longest wheelbases I've seen on a single bike.  What that means is an ultra-stable, even cushy ride, which Jake cited as one of the goals in design .  Part of what gives this bike such a long wheelbase is a feature I don't recall having seen before:

This is probably the first bike I've ever seen in which the frame's seat tube doesn't end in the bottom bracket shell.  I don't think I've ever seen another bike, save for a recumbent,  on which the pedals were so far forward from the seat.  And, with the exception a tandem I saw once, I don't think I've ever seen another  bike with a rear wheel that was set as far back from the cranks and pedals as this one is.  


Just what I need for cruising down the boardwalk at Daytona Beach!

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.

Floating Into The New Year

On two of the four mountain bikes I owned, I had a front fork with suspension.  But I never had a frame with suspension built into it.  


Now, on one of my bikes (Marianela), I have a sprung saddle.  That counts as suspension, I guess.  And I've had a two other sprung saddles that I can recall.


However, I don't think any suspension system on a bike can compare to this:

Over Flagler Beach, FL, 31 December 2010

And the pilot/passenger doesn't look as if he''s suffering from any saddle soreness:

When I took his photo, he couldn't have been more than about twenty feet above me.   I'm passing on his wishes for a happy new year!

Making Friends At The End of The Year

For my last ride of 2010, I did a few easy miles on the local paths.  On my way to them, a cute stranger crossed my path:

He was roaming around in front of somebody's house, saw me coming and nonchalantly started to cross the street.  Somehow he knew I would stop to stroke him. 

At least it's good to know that someone finds me more interesting than the newspaper--one called the "Observer," yet.  If an observer something and no one pays attention....how does that question end?

So what do I miss most about home?  My cats?  My bikes?  My books?  My friends?  It's really close.  

Happy New Year!

Bridges to Deja Vu

There are at least a couple of different ways in which you can experience deja vu during a bike ride.


The most common way, of course, is to see familiar sights during along a route you've ridden before.  More often than not, that is a pleasant or at least agreeable situation.  After all, you wouldn't be doing the ride again if you don't get some kind of pleasure from it.


Then there is what I will call, for lack of a better term, situational deja vu.  Any number of situations or other experiences can repeat themselves during a ride. Among them are weather, road conditions, fatigue, exhiliaration or some emotion or another that you're dealing with.


Yet another kind of deja vu is, paradoxically, the most ephemeral yet the one that affects us most deeply.  It's the one in which we recall feelings or memories which may have come to us on rides very different from the one we're on at the moment.  Or we have expereinced those emotions during rides we did much earlier in our lives, or in places very different from the one in which we happen to be riding.


There are other ways, I'm sure, in which we can experience deja vu during a bike ride.  I've just mentioned three I could think of at this moment.  They also happen to be the ways in which I experienced deja vu on today's ride.


Although this is my first visit to, and therefore my first bike ride in, Florida in two years, every inch of today's ride was at least somewhat familiar to me.  I had previously ridden every crack and grain of sand my tires tread, though not necessarily in the sequence in which I rode them today.  But it seemed that the flow of sense memories was all but seamless.


It began when I crossed the bridge from Palm Coast Parkway to Route A1A:

Hannibal is said to have shouted "Excelsior!" after conquering the Alps.  Whatever he was feeling, it has nothing on the sensation I experience as I reach the apex of a bridge that connects the mainland to a strip of land along the sea.  At such moments, I feel as if I'm exhaling for the first time, whether the bridge is the one I crossed today, the one that connects Broad Channel to Rockaway Beach, the one I crossed over the estuary of the Dordogne river to the coast near Bordeaux or the one from Highlands to Sandy Hook in New Jersey. 


It was over that last bridge that I took my first long rides during my early teen years.


And that bridge led, like the one I crossed today, led to a spit of land that stands, almost defiantly, between the ocean and another body of water.  When you ride along Route 36 from Sandy Hook to Long Branch, the ocean is never more than two hundred feet to your left and the Shrewsbury River is no further than that to your right.  When you ride A1A from Palm Coast to Flagler Beach, the dunes of Painters Hill (such an apt name!) and Beverly Beach are practically at arm's length on your left, and you're separated by no more than the width of a grove or mobile-home "campground" from the Florida Intercoastal Waterway.


Even though this is Florida, I'll admit that today's ride is more beautiful than the ones in New Jersey or to Rockaway Beach.  But in the end, I enjoy it--and, more important, it matters to me for the same reasons as those rides, and the one in the southwest of France.  They all are bridges to deja vu.

Riding A Borrowed Bike On Its Own Time

Dear Reader, I really want you to feel pity for me.

Yeah, I know, I'm spending the holidays in Florida.  And, in doing so, I avoided the Great Christmas Blizzard of 2010 (or whatever the media are calling it) that hit the Northeast.

But where I am, while it's lovely enough, it ain't South Beach.  Then again, I never really wanted to go there.  In fact, I never had much of a yearning to go to Miami, or to come to this state at all.  My reasons are beyond the scope of this post or this blog, but suffice to say that my parents are the reason I come here, to a place that's about halfway between Jacksonville and Orlando--and, for that matter, about halfway between Saint Augustine and Daytona Beach. 

Now, all of those towns except Jacksonville (which, frankly, I don't know very well and--again, for reasons beyond the scope of this post and blog--don't want to know very well), have much to recommend them.  The town in which my parents live is not without its charms, including some nice pedestrian/bike lanes.

So, there's some good riding here.  The problem is this:

Yes, this is what I have been riding.  My parents borrowed it from a neighbor.  While I appreciate that neighbor's kindness, I have to wonder how much she actually rides it.  I saw it two years ago, and it looked no more used when I saw again this week.

It's a very cushy bike: the sort of machine on which you'd float along on a boardwalk or around the golf course.  But try to ride it more than half an hour, or make it go more than about three times your normal walking speed, and this bike will ignore your efforts and continue on its merry but very slow ways.

It's not too bad when ridden on level ground (which, around here, is pretty much the only kind of ground) and with the wind.  But pedal against the wind, which sometimes kicks up along the coastline, and it feels as if you're riding suspended in syrup.

This is giving me incentive to order a Brompton.  Of course, if I were to bring it (or any other) bike down, I'd have to check it in.  Usually, I bring everything I need for a trip down here in a carry-on.

Well, I'm glad I have a bike to ride, anyway.  And this one makes me appreciate my own bikes all the more.