When you commute, you think a lot about timing. You know that leaving a few minutes earlier or later might put you into, or keep you out of traffic, on some stretch of your ride. You may also notice a temperature difference. In my case, I had completely different weather than I'd've had had I left fifteen minutes earlier than I did.
When I'd originally planned to leave, rain was falling and the temperature was about to fall below 45F, where it had been (give or take a degree or two) through the morning and the previous night. And the air was still calm.
However, I misplaced a couple of papers and searching for them put me about fifteen minutes behind schedule. By then, the rain had stopped and temperatures below freezing were forecast for my commute home. I can live with such conditions, so I decided to chance the weather.
I hadn't counted on one other condition mentioned in the forecast: the wind. I must have had a steady 15MPH (25KPH) stream at my back for the stretch from Woodside all the way to my job. Gusts of at least double that speed turned my back into a sail by the World's Fair Marina. So, in spite of leaving late, I arrived at work early.
I'm still there now, dreading/anticipating riding into the wind that blew me here.
At this early stage of 2012, it probably wouldn't surprise you to know that most of the miles I've pedalled this year have been on my commutes. That got me to thinking of some bikes I've ridden to and from jobs past.
Here's a bike I haven't thought about in a while: a Miyata three-speed. I'm guessing it was the 1981 model shown in the catalogue page above because it matches, in every detail, the bike I rode for about two years.
It actually was a classy-looking bike: Were I wearing suits to work, I would have had no difficulty riding it--or the ladies' (non-mixte) model were I wearing skirts and heels. However, I was working jobs that had no dress codes, and even by those standards, I didn't dress particularly well.
Still, I recall enjoying the ride of the bike very much. I think it had a somewhat tighter geometry than other three-speeds like the ones made by Raleigh, Peugeot and Schwinn. Equally important, the frame was made out of lugged chromoly tubing, which was considerably lighter than the frames on those other bikes. Plus, most of the components--including the rims, cranks, handlebars, stem, fenders and chainguard--were made from aluminum alloy rather than steel.
Back then, 3-speeds (or any other commuter-specific bikes) weren't "hip:" thus, I was able to buy mine when it was about two years old for about 50 dollars. (If I recall correctly, it sold for about 300 dollars new.) Occasionally, someone would compliment it on its looks; more often, though, I found myself defending it when someone wondered aloud why I didn't get a racing bike (which I had, in fact, in addition to the Miyata three-speed). And I enjoyed knowing that I was riding something not many other people--at least in America--were riding.
However, the bike shared one shortcoming with many other Japanese bikes of the time: its wheels. Japanese rims and spokes of that time were heavier but not as strong as their European counterparts, and the Japanese "stainless" spokes often corroded, even on bikes that weren't ridden in the rain and were stored indoors. Within a few months, I had to re-spoke the rear wheel with a new rim. In fact, it was one of the first wheels I laced myself.
In lacing a new Weinmann concave rim to the hub, I discovered that the largest-gauge DT spokes available were too small for the spoke holes in the Shimano three-speed hub. Fortunately, I hadn't tensioned the wheel, so it was relatively easy to unlace them and re-fit the hub and spokes with washers between the spoke heads and hub.
Then I discovered that the Shimano three-speed hub simply wasn't as strong or reliable as the Sturmey-Archers on the old English three-speeds. I don't know how many models Shimano made then, but the one I had seemed to be the only one exported to the US. This was in the days when Shimano was notorious for not making spare parts available. So, unless you knew someone with a pipeline to the factory in Japan, you were SOL if something wore or broke down in the hub. And it happened to mine within a year after re-lacing the wheel.
I should also note that those were the days when Sturmey-Archer's quality declined precipitously, and I'm not sure whether SunTour was still making three-speed hubs. Sachs, common on bikes in Germany and Benelux countries, was all but unavailable in the US. So, if I wanted to keep the bike a three-speed, my best option would have been to find a Sturmey-Archer from the 1960's or earlier. I never took on that project, for someone made an unsolicited offer of 400 dollars for the bike. Being the Starving Artist I was then, I took him up on it.
But having that quick but classy commuter probably had more of an effect on me than I ever realized it would: It's probably the reason I ride Vera to and from work now. She's even quicker and classier than that Miyata could have been.
Do you ride to go places? Or, do you go places to ride?
Those questions came to mind when, on my way to work, I saw the gull in the photo circling across an inlet from the World's Fair Marina. That bird had about as un-picturesque a view as any could have: Between the Home Depot and the orange-and-white "silo" are auto-body shops, a cement factory, scrap-metal yards and some warehouses, punctuated by garbage dumps. Yet that bird was flying because it needed to and because he/she probably found plenty to eat.
Of course, when we are riding to work, we have a very speicific destination in mind. And some of our other rides are like that. But much of the time, when I'm on my bike, I don't care that much about where I'm riding: I am happy simply to be in the saddle. Interestingly, today I felt that way for at least part of my commute.
I think Vera was rather enjoying it, too.
People have told me that, given my history and proclivities, I really don't spend much time in Chelsea. Actually, coming from some people I know, that statement is an accusation rather than an observation!
The funny thing is, I used to spend more time there when it was still largely a working-class Irish neighborhood and, later, when art galleries that couldn't afford to stay in Soho moved to the western fringe of the neighborhood. Those times were well before my transition.
Anyway, Chelsea is like a lot of places in that it's very different if you know people there and go into their homes. Otherwise, it's mostly a shopping area with lots of restaurants and the Piers. But, inside the apartment blocks, tenements and restored brownstones, there are all kinds of stories. A few of them can be told by the bikes parked outside:
For those of you more interested in the bikes than in my scintillating social commentary or historical perspective (You know who you are! ;-) ), the bikes are of course both Dutch-style city commuters/commuters. The one on the fence is a Raleigh, believe it or not. The bike leaning against it was made in Belgium by Mechelen (?).
In black, they make for a rather distinguished if bourgeois couple who have their charm. Isn't that what every couple wants to be, at the end of the day?
Today felt more like the seventh of May than the seventh of January, at least in terms of weather. So, there were plenty of people on their bikes, and some were wearing clothing that wasn't designed to shed rain or snow, or to fend off cold.
One of those riders, whom I met in Chelsea, strikes me as someone who would look absolutely fabulous on her bike in any season:
This sweet and engaging young woman is Andrea Diodati. She's been featured on other bike blogs, she said. I assured her that this one is not like any of the others. After all, how many bike bloggers are like me?
More to the point, how many cyclists have her sense of style? If you want to feature it, she's at electriclovelight.gmail.com. Come on, admit it: You want to write her just to type out that address!
Today the temperature reached 50F and I didn't ride.
Why?
I just lost a riding partner...
I'm going to start making good on a sort-of-promise that I made (or was it a promise I sort-of-made) in the early days of this blog: I'm going to write posts about the bikes I've owned and, perhaps, a few that I've ridden and haven't owned.
My bikes probably won't appear chronologically, or according to any other kind of scheme. However, I do plan to make a list of posts of my bikes past, and make that list available on the sidebar of this blog.
I've been looking through my old photos for some images of my old rides. Now I just need to buy a scanner, or find one that I can use somewhere. I don't have photos of some of my bikes; for those, I'll use old catalogue illustrations or borrow photos from other websites.
If any of you have a time machine, I'll go back and take photos of my old bikes. So far, I figure that I've had about sixty bikes during my lifetime.
In case you're interested, here are some links to posts I've already written about pedals past:
Royce-Union Three-Speed
Nishiki International
Schwinn Continental
Romic Sport-Tourer
Bridgestone RB-2
I don't know how long it will be before I post all of my old bikes on this blog, but I intend to do so. I hope that you'll continue coming here, not just for those posts, but for all of the scintillating wit and wisdom I plan to write in between them.
For all of his foibles and questionable behavior, I always thought Michael Jackson was one of the greatest entertainers of his generation. True, he made all of his worthwhile music before he turned thirty. (In fact, I think that was one of the things that caused or exacerbated many of his problems: The only way he could "outdo" himself after those great albums and videos was through outrageous behavior.) But you had to admit: He could always put on a show.
Somehow, though, I doubt he did much cycling, ever. I don't think much he ever did was conducive to pedaling two wheels. And his fashion sense, as interesting as it could be, simply doesn't work when you're in the saddle.
One example of what I mean was his practice of wearing one white glove. For one thing, about the only white articles of clothing I ever wore on a bike were the socks I raced in: Back then, the USCF and the UCI didn't allow racers to wear anything else under their Detto Pietros. Wearing white while cycling simply never made any sense to me; for that matter, I rarely wear much of anything in white because, when I do, I ruin it. Also, when I haven't had much sun, I look sickly in white.
But back to Michael Jackson: Wearing one glove isn't very practical on a bike. Sometimes I ride gloveless, but not when the weather is anything like it's been the past couple of days.
Sometime during my workday yesterday, I managed to lose one of my gloves. By the time I was ready to leave, the temperature had dropped to 18F and a brisk wind blew out of the northwest. The college in which I work is about half a mile from a strip of stores, all of which were closed.
Another few blocks away, there's another strip. By the time I passed it, only a Rite-Aid Drugstore and a Mandee's were open. RA didn't have any gloves, though they had things like electric socks and blankets. That left Mandee's, which had only those too-cute fingerless gloves that has a "hood" you can slip over the fingers--but not the thumb. They weren't much, but I figured they were better than nothing.
So I bought a pair and, every few minutes, brought each hand to my lips and blew hot air (Some people tell me I'm full of it.) over each thumb. Still, by the time I got home, my hands were tingling and my thumbs were numb. I was only too happy that Charlie and Max wanted me to stroke them!
There are lots of good ways to commemorate MJ. Emulating his sartorial style when you get on a bike isn't one of them!
Vera is once again up and running. She got me to work today. I definitely count my blessings that I lost only a seat and post, not the whole bike.
I am making a couple of other modifications to her and, when they're done, I'll show her in her new glory.
Speaking of theft: Yes, I have had bicycles stolen. Four, in fact. Two were "beaters" and I actually got one of them back after the owner of one of the shops in which I worked spotted it when he was riding home. However, another bike that was stolen from me was a high-quality, nearly new, road bike: a 1994 Bridgestone RB-2.
I bought it as a "leftover" at a substantial discount the following year. Most Bridgestones--at least the higher-end models--sold out in most years; I considered myself lucky to get one that was more or less the right size for me. I didn't "need" another bike, as I had high-quality road and mountain bikes, but I got a deal that was simply too good to pass up.
It came in a blue-green (I thought it was more blue) metallic finish that I liked, although I would have liked the plum metallic, the other color choice offered that year, even better. However, for the price I paid, I wasn't about to be picky.
I put a pair of Michelin 700 X28C cyclo-cross tires and rack on it with the intention of making the bike my commuter and winter road ride. That plan worked for about three months, if I remember correctly. At the time, I was teaching at the New York City Technical College (now the New York City College of Technology). The good news was that it was less than five minutes, by bike, from the Park Slope apartment in which I was living. However, the bad news was that it was in what was still a high-crime area of downtown Brooklyn.
The college consisted of a couple of fairly grimy concrete and steel buildings that sucked up all of the soot from nearby factories and the cars and trucks entering the Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges. Bicycles weren't allowed inside any of the buildings. But nearly every day, I bought coffee and something to eat from a truck that stood just outside the main entrance. The owner told me to park my bike at the parking meter nearest his truck, plainly within his sight. I did that for a couple of months.
Well, one day, he was sick and someone else--a nephew, I think--manned the truck. And, after teaching eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds where to put commas in their sentences, I walked over to the truck, only to find my bike gone.
The young man in the truck claimed to see nothing.
I'd been using the best lock Kryptonite made at the time. They paid the full retail cost of the bike, minus the deductible. After another paycheck or two, I could have bought another RB-2, even at the regular price. The only problem was that they weren't available any more. It was made in Japan and the dollar lost a lot of value against the yen, making the bike, and others built in Japan, much more expensive in the US than they had been. So Bridgestone and other Japanese bike makers (like Miyata and Panasonic) simply stopped exporting to the US. (Other Japanese makers, like Fuji, outsourced their manufacturing to Taiwan and China.)
Because I already had a high-end road bike, a nice track bike and a pretty good mountain bike, I simply used the latter bike for commutes and saved up for a nicer mountain bike, as I was becoming a fairly serious off-road rider. But I missed the RB-2: It was a sweet ride and the time I had it marked the first time in my life I had more than one good road bike.
Has anybody out there ridden a high-wheeler (or, as they were called in England, "penny-farthing")? Every once in a while, I think I'd like to ride one.
Of course, there's one logistical problem: finding such a bike. And then I'd have to get a pair of bloomers. I suppose I could ride in a short skirt, but somehow that wouldn't be in the spirit of riding a bike like the one in the photo.
