Happy Mother's Day!

To all of you who are mothers--and those of you who love yours, or someone who was one to you--Happy Mother's Day.


My mom is great. But she hates being photographed, and I've been able to take the few photos I have of her only by swearing I would never share them.  Since I do believe in honoring my mother and father (which is not always the same as obeying them), you will not see her photo on my blogs.  However, I'll give you the next best thing--to me, anyway. Here's a photo of a mom riding with her kid in tow:

From Public

Pride

It must have had to do with the fact that today was an absolutely perfect mid-spring day.  Somehow I was feeling proud, if not invincible, the way I did when I rode in my youth.  Of course, I can't ride as far or long or fast as I did in those days, but I was feeling pretty good and rather proud of myself.  Perhaps it had something to do with seeing this

He just knew he looked good against that bridge and sky.  Of course, it wasn't enough for him to make me notice that.

That bird simply knew the bridges spanned a river, but his wings spanned so much more.  Well, that's what he seemed to believe, anyway.

Who am I to argue?

Taming The Bicycle

From High Wheel Bicycle

On my bicycle, I've raced, toured, commuted and delivered pizzas, books, payroll checks, blueprints, contracts, machine parts and a few packages with "don't ask don't tell" policies, if you know what I mean.


I've thumped along potholed city streets, rumbled down rocky hills, rolled along county roads and routes departmantles past fields, castles, cathedrals and through forests and villages. I've woven my way through pacelines and drafted riders I would pass and others who would ride in races, and in places, I have never seen.   I've cycled over ice and through fire.  (I'm not making that up!)  I've ridden alone, with friends, with lovers and after breakups.  And I've pedalled away from a person or two.

On the other hand, I've never done BMX, bicycle polo or paintball on bicycles.  And I've never ridden a high-wheeler, although I sometimes think I'd like to.  After all, my cycling ancestors did so.  They include Auguste Rodin, H.G. Wells and Mark Twain, who wrote an incomparable account of the experience.  


He tamed his bike the way he tamed just about everything else: with his wit and irony.  Really, I don't see how a cyclist can not develop at least a little bit of either quality.  

Rene Herse Demountable

Imagine getting started in cycling (or just about anything else) without the Internet.

Well, if you're of my generation, you don't have to remember.  You relied on books and magazines--and your local club (if you had one) and bike shop.

I was reminded of this when I came across a page that archives some old articles from Bicycling magazine. 

I thought about the bikes I learned about--and, in most cases, never actually saw--while reading the magazine.  Their names alone were journeys into places I had yet to visit and times I would never see.   I mean, when you thought the choices in bikes were among three-speeds, Columbias, Murrays and Schwinns, names like Hetchins, Routens, Jack Taylor, De Rosa, Alex Singer, Mercian, Pogliaghi and Rene Herse seem other-worldly.


And, of course, there was no way I could have afforded those bikes.  All I could do was to save those copies of Bicycling and read about them--and look at the photos.

From Laek House

To this day, I haven't seen some of those bikes.  One I'd really love to encounter is the Rene Herse Demountable.  

Yes, it's a folding bike.  The mechanisms used to collapse were found on the down tube 

 

and the top tube

 

 Note the placement of the shift levers!


The Bicycling article makes folding the bike seem easy.  I wonder just how easy it--or, for that matter, transporting it--actually was.  If nothing else, I'm sure it was a better ride than just about any other folding bike ever made.


The demontable I'd really like to see is this women's model.

Super-rare Rene Herse women's Demountable.  Photo from Bikeville.

I can only imagine what some Japanese collector would pay for it.

The Original Bike Luggage?

I was looking through some of the photos I took at the New Amsterdam Bike Show.  One of them got me to reminiscing.




Brooklyn Cruiser bicycle


There was a time in my life when milk crates served as furniture, storage units, shelving--and bicycle luggage.

Milk crates have been attached to rear racks with zip ties, hose clamps, rope, bungee cords and old inner tubes.  When I had a milk crate on my town/commuter bike, more years ago than I'll admit, I attached it with toe straps.

You can even use a milk crate to turn your bike into a tandem.  Why didn't I think of that?

Whenever I see of milk crates, I think of Lego blocks.  They are structured, and fit together, in much the same way,and come in the same colors.  They are fun--and practical.

Remember:  Milk crates are your friends!

Following The Scent In The Light Of Another Season

Assisi, Italy.  By Aaron Huey, in The National Geographic, July/August 2007

The past couple of days have been a bit chillier and wetter than what is normal for this time of year.  Or, perhaps, it just seems that way because of the mild, dry winter and April we had this year.

Somehow, at least for me, the unusual weather conditions left me feeling as if Spring hadn't arrived. Perhaps I am one of those creatures who doesn't respond so much to the season itself as to the change from the previous season.  I barely noticed that change from February to March to April.

However, the chilly, damp weather of the past few days left me feeling, ironically enough, that Spring had finally arrived.  I first noticed it one day last week, when I rode to work.  The rain had just passed; it washed the air with the scent of blooming flowers and reflected a subdued yet forgiving light of a dissipating cloud cover.

I could have followed that scent, in that light, all day.  But that day's ride had to end at work. But, at least, the sky had cleared and I pedaled home in the moonlight. 

The Day After The Super Full Moon

The other night we had a "super full moon."  Higher-than-normal tides usually come with it.  What that means is that when the tides recede, they leave even more sandbars exposed than are usually seen when the tide is out.

These above photo, and the ones that follow, come from Point Lookout, where I rode yesterday.

It seemed that everyone there was happy.  Why wouldn't they be?  The overcast sky opened to bright sunshine, and everything seemed so peaceful.  I pedalled into some wind on my way out there, but that meant an easier ride home.

Isn't that what everybody wants?

I Didn't Get Their Addresses; He Doesn't Have Mine

Today was one of those days that started off overcast and became almost preternaturally sunny and clear--during the course of my bike ride.  However, the temperature dropped noticeably as I rode toward the sea:  The water is still pretty cold and the wind was blowing from it.

At Point Lookout, a man who drove there with his girlfriend took this photo.  I took photos of them with their camera, and one with mine.  I'd promised to send it to them but didn't get their e-mail address!

Along the way, something even stranger happened.  I didn't take a photo, and I don't think I would've even if I could've.


I was riding along the Park Avenue, the main commercial street of Long Beach.  Along the way, I passed a cafe where a bunch of guys and their bikes were eating and drinking on the front terrace.  They were all in bright jerseys and had their racing bikes propped next to their tables.  I've seen countless groups like them; for many years, I rode with them.  Still, something felt even more familiar about the group I saw today.


As I passed directly in front of it, I caught the glance of a guy with whom I rode on any number of occasions.  The groups in which we rode were, for lack of a better term, spontaneously  assembled pelotons.  We weren't racing, at least not officially, but our competitiveness often turned from friendly to passionate to heated.  In other words, the testosterone level was high.


And the guy whose glance I caught for a moment was a kind of eminence renfrognee.  I think he scowled through his wedding and the birth of his daughter and when he ate lechon asado in holiday gatherings.  Heck, I even saw him scowl when he had a few beers in him.


I was told the guy was a photographer, but I never saw any of his work.  In fact, I never saw him working:  He was employed in a couple of bike shops and everyone who worked with him described him as lazy.  You'd never know that if you saw him on a bike.


Anyway, I don't know whether or not he recognized me.  I hadn't seen him--and, I presume, he hadn't seen me--in about ten years.  If you've been reading this or my other blog, you know that I've gone through a lot of changes since then.  I am a different kind of cyclist from the one I was when I was riding with him, and I'm not sure we could relate now.  For that matter, I'm not sure he'd want to.


I just hope he enjoyed his ride today at least as much as I enjoyed mine.

I Can Out-Retro Any Kid On The Block!

Take a look at this rim decal on an Electra touring bicycle:

Now look at this Mavic decal from the 1960's:

Don't get me wrong:  I prefer the graphics on many older bikes and components to their modern counterparts. (The fact that I ride four lugged Reynolds Mercians and buy stuff from Velo Orange should tell you something!) But I have to wonder about the impulse to create "genuine reproductions." 

I'm not trying to slam Electra:  I like a lot of what they displayed at the New Amsterdam Bike Show.  In fact, if I were in the market for a touring bike and didn't have my Mercians, I might well consider buying what Electra is offering.
  


For another example of something that seems as if its makers are trying to out-retro every other kid  on the block, take a look at this fork decal:

Compare it with these Reynolds fork decals from the 1980's:

As I said, I like much of what Electra is doing and wish them well. I just hope they don't get embroiled in some silly dispute with another company over who has the rights to copy some design that hadn't been in production for decades.


Now, for something that was decidedly not retro at the show, I offer this:

The show was sponsored by KLM and, not surprisingly, Grolsch beer was served.  All attendees who were of legal drinking age were offered two glasses "on the house."

Clothes Make The Man (Or Woman) At The Show

Let's go back to the future.  Actually, let's go back to the time when the movie by that name was on the big screens.

Around 1984 or 1985, it seemed that there was another new brand of imported (usually German, Dutch or Belgian) beer being served every week in the bars and restaurants of Soho, Back Bay and the Mission District.  Likewise, it seemed that new brands of bike clothing were appearing in bike shops with the same frequency.  That meant, of course, that there were a number of new lines of  shorts, jerseys and such at the bike shows. 

After a while, though, they started to look the same.  Don't get me wrong:  I did develop some favorites, based on fit, looks and other features.  However, by that time, most bike clothing was being made from Lycra, and was meant for racers or wannabes.  And, save for a couple of domestic brands, most came from Italy. 

Now let's fast-forward to the present--to this year's New Amsterdam Bike Show, to be exact.  Given that the show was held in downtown Manhattan, it was all but inevitable that clothes would be featured.  (And, yes, there was a bicycle fashion show.) But the threads were not the kind you'll see in the pro peloton, or even in a local race.  Instead, they were made for "real" cyclists.

In other words, they were made for people who ride to and from work, or to shop, go to art openings and such--or for sport and recreation.  The makers of those vetements were also thinking of people who will ride regardless of the time of day or weather.

One of the most fascinating exhibits, to my eye, was that of Vespertine.  Designer (and company founder) Sarah Canner was showing vests and sashes that, in daylight, don't look anything like what construction workers and traffic patrol officers wear.  Most interesting of all were a vest with a feather boa and a sort of short trench jacket that one could wear to an office or art opening.  They have reflective threads sewn that are not noticeable in ordinary light but, when headlights shine on them at night, glow brighter than almost any other reflective material you've seen.

I have been told that reflective clothing that looks like ordinary street wear has been available in Portland and San Francisco for several years.  But Vespertine, based only a few blocks from the New Amsterdam show, might bring the shine to the Big Apple.

Until recently, rainwear was just about as hip and fashionable as reflective wear was before companies like Vespertine came along.  Now, it seems, Cleverhood ( in Providence, Rhode Island) is doing for rainwear what Vespertine is doing for reflective gear:  making outerwear that is practical for cycling and other outdoor activities, but can be worn when off the bike or trail. 

There were other clothing exhibitors, but I'll mention just one more:  Twin Six of Minneapolis.   Part of the reason I'm including them is that Twin Six's Mark Fischer is one of the more interesting people I met at the show.  But his products are also worth mentioning:  caps, cycling jerseys, T-shirts and other bike-related apparel.  The main reasons to consider Twin Six are that their stuff seems well-made and (more important to you, I'm sure!) that they have their own sense of style.  You won't find the "billboard" graphics that dominate the team kit of major (and many minor) races.  Their prints and colors are also found on their messenger bags and water bottles, which I did not see at the show but are shown on their website.