Hipster Hook Bikes

How do you know you're in Hipster Hook?


Well, first of all, I should tell you where and what Hipster Hook are.


Roughly, HH rims the East River in Brooklyn and Queens from the Williamsburgh Bridge to the Queensborough (a.k.a. 59th Street) Bridge.  From the river, it stretches a few blocks inland, to about Driggs Avenue in Brooklyn and 11th Street in Queens.  Hipster Hook includes parts of the Brooklyn neighborhoods of Williamsburgh and Greenpoint, and the Queens Community of Long Island City.


All right. You don't always have your map or GPS handy.  So, how else can you tell you're in the Hook?


Well, just take a look at the bikes parked locked to the sign posts, parking meters or other immobile objects:

I mean, where else are you going to find a '70's Bob Jackson, with a full set of Campagnolo Nuovo Record Components, converted to flat-bar use and locked up next to two other bikes?

If you've been following this blog, you have probably realized that I favor purple and deep green (especially British Racing Green), cobalt blue or burgundy bikes.  But I also have a soft spot for orange bikes of that time.  (I include Marianela, the Schwinn Le Tour I used to ride.)  Somehow, the orange bikes made since then just don't have the same kind of character:  Instead of glowing, they shout.

Anyway, I think that bike also has the only thing that, to me, could have made it even prettier:  a somewhat-aged Brooks B-17 saddle in honey.


I wish I could have gotten a full solo shot of the bike.  Oh well.  At least one of the bikes locked next to it was a Masi from the same era.  Today, bikes bearing the Masi name are being made in Taiwan and seem to be, at best, parodies of the real thing.

And how else do you know you're in Hipster Hook?  Well, the bike locked next to the Bob Jackson and Masi was a current KHS bike.  Not bad, really:  I once had a KHS myself.  But you simply can't compare it to those other two bikes!

Sneaking Away, Into The Wind

Today I was asked to go to a function where I really didn't have to be.  I never exactly said "no," but I didn't commit to it, either.  So, if anyone notices I wasn't there (There's a good chance nobody will!), I can say that "something came up."


Which it did.  That "something", of course, is a ride.   When I left my apartment just after noon with Arielle, scarcely a cloud besmudged the blue, sunny sky.  A strong breeze bent tree limbs and flickered leaves.  But the weather was just warm enough that the breeze invigorated me.


Given that it was such a lovely day, I figured I could ride to Point Lookout and be home around the time of the end-of-day traffic filled the roads.  It was a good plan, but not necessarily for the reasons I planned.


We all know that when you pedal into a breeze, it turns into a wind.  And when you pedal into a wind, it turns into a gale.  Someone told me that once.  That person, once again, was right.  But I didn't care:  I just wanted to ride.


Then, as I pushed through Howard Beach and along the roads and bridges to the Rockaways, clouds gathered.  By the time I got to the Rockaway Beach boardwalk, the skies were overcast.  Even though they grew grayer and more opaque, they never really darkened.  So, I knew there was no real threat of rain.


But by the time I got to Point Lookout, I felt I was looking at what Andrew Wyeth might have painted had he lived in a coastal town:

Still, the ride was more than pleasant and, surprisingly, didn't take much longer than it normally did.  I also wasn't tired.  

The upside to pedaling in the wind, of course, is that when you turn around, it's at your back.  Arielle really lived up to her name:  I felt like I was floating over the roads through Lido Beach, Long Beach and Atlantic Beach, and over the bridge to Far Rockaway.  Even when riding the boardwalk, I felt like I was on a magic carpet powered by Eddie Mercx, Jeanne Longo and a Russian sprinter or two.  

Things probably never would have gone so smoothly had I attended that function I really didn't have to attend!

Food Choices While Cycling

Starting a ride in the middle of the afternoon when you haven't had anything to eat can get you hungry very. very quickly.  All sorts of things start to look interesting and appealing.

And some things start to seem almost surreal:

A Halal Gourmet Hamburger?  Not so long ago, it never would have occurred to me to use the words "gourmet" and "hamburger" together.  And, while the idea of a Halal hamburger seemed plausible to me as soon as I knew what "Halal" meant, I'm not so sure I'd be thinking about hamburgers if I were thinking about eating Halal.  

Still, I just might go back and try it.  I wouldn't be surprised if it were good--whether or not I were riding my bike after not eating anything.

Not A Hipster Fixie

I know that I've ranted and railed against "hipster fixies," espcially their garish color schemes (if, indeed, they can be called "schemes).  However, I rather liked this bike, which I saw on my way to work today:

For one thing, it cannot be properly considered a "hipster fixie."  It is indeed a fixie, but its frame is from a department-store mountain bike.  Plus, the bike is used for  restaurant deliveries.  Finally, the man who rides it is anything but a hipster:  He's a Salvadorean immigrant who was happy that I took the photo. 

I complimented the color scheme--which he did himself:  al frente, la rueda roja con la llanta amarilla; y, a trasera, al reves.  He complimented my Spanish, which makes him a truly nice man. (Really!)

Just for the sake of contrast, I propped Vera in the same spot after he left with the non-hipster fixie:

Bicycles Are For The Summer

Mention "bicycle movies" or "movies with bicycles" and the first ones that come to most people's minds are Ladri di Biciclette (usually translated as The Bicycle Thief, but is literally Bicycle Thieves) and Breaking Away.  Both, I think, deserve their reputations, although BA is a bit more of a "feel-good" film than LdB.  

I've seen both more than once.   Seeing either one reminds me of what Robert Graves said about Shakespeare:  In spite of all the people who say he's very good, he really is very good.  

Anyway, there's a lesser-known (at least here in the US) bicycle film that I'd like to see again. Las Bicicletas Son Para El Verano (Bicycles Are For The Summer), released in 1985, was directed by Jaime Chavarri and based an eponymous play written by Fernando Fernan Gomez.  I have not seen the play, but it was well-reviewed.  I imagine it deserved those reviews if the film is in any way true to it.

The play and movie take place during the Spanish Civil War.  Luisito, the son of upper-middle-class Madrilenos Don Luis and Dona Dolores (Sorry, my keyboard doesn't have accent marks or tildes!)  wants a new bicycle, in spite of having failed his exams.  However, the war forces his parents to delay the purchase of his bicycle and that delay, like the war itself, drags on longer than any of them expected. 

More than anything, it's a story of survival and adaptation.  In that sense, it has more in common with LdB than with BA, although the dreams and hopes of one of the characters are as central to it as they are in BA.  I'll try not to give too much away in saying that, in time, Luisito has to abandon not only his hope of getting a bicycle, but his education and his dreams of becoming a writer, much as his father did.  Meanwhile, Luisito's sister Manolita has to abandon her dreams of becoming an actress after having a baby with a soldier who dies.  

Also, the story reveals class resentments between the family and their neighbors and friends but how, ultimately, they have to rely on each other in order to survive the privations of the war and the subsequent Franco regime.

Those of you who are fans of Pedro Almodovar will be interested in this film because it features one of the early appearances of an actress who would later star in several of his films:  Victoria Abril.

I don't know when I'll get to see the play.  But I'm sure there's a DVD of the film to be had somewhere.  The first chance I get, I'll watch it.

The Joy Of A Staycation: Biking In The City

I like to take a "big" trip every now and again.  But Memorial Day weekend is one of those times I'd prefer not to.  The weather has been warm and sticky; it rained on and off on Friday and Saturday.  But one of the great things about being in New York on a weekend like this one can be seen here:

This is the view down Washington Street, near the entrance to the Holland Tunnel.  I was on a bike, and I had it all to myself.  


Ironically, the most congested part of Manhattan may well have been the Greenway along the Hudson River, only a block away.  Tourists always flock to the Intrepid, which is about two miles up the Greenway, for this holiday.  And, it seems that everyone who isn't going there renting a bike, or stopping to sprawl themselves across the Greenway to take photos.


Here is another view from Spring Street:

After my ride, I went to the barbeque my fiend Millie has every year.  I more than made up for all of the calories I burned on my ride!

500 Posts, And A Bike That Will Not Help Your Resume

This blog has been in existence for almost two years.  And this is the 500th post on it.  


To celebrate, I'm posting a picture of a bike that "will not help your resume":

The Cannibal And The Statue

Do you want to see a sign of a real hard-core racing bike?

I could barely fit a business card between the brake bridge and tire--which is a 700X25C.  Yes, that bike isn't meant to take anything more than 700X23.


The bike is an Eddy Mercx road frame from 1994, built as a single-speed with only a front brake.  It owner, who came to unlock it as I was about to snap a picture of the whole bike, says, "It rides as great as ever."  I'm sure it does:  Well-made European lugged frames constructed from Reynolds, Columbus, Excelle, Falk or Durifort tubing tend to ride well forever as long as you don't crash them.


One interesting thing about the Mercx bicycles is that if you removed their decals and paint jobs, they'd be indistinguishable (to most people, anyway) from the classic Italian frames of the day,  They even had Italian threads.  But they were made in Belgium, the home country of "The Cannibal"--whom I still believe to be the greatest bicycle racer of all time.


Not far from the bike in question was the Statue of Liberty

  It's in front of the Loews Building on East 61st Street, just down the block from the Hotel Pierre.  This is one of the "drafts," if you will, of the more famous (and much larger) version that looms over the harbor.  

I wonder whether someone has told some tourist that it is indeed that Statue of Liberty, and said tourists went home believing that they indeed saw the "original."

Detroit: The Next Portland--Or Amsterdam?

Henry Ford with his bicycle in the early 1890's. 

David Byrne has said that one of the most memorable bike rides he ever took was in Detroit.  He described the backdrop to his Motor City randonnee as a "postapocalyptic landscape at its finest" and rates that trip with his spin along the Bosprous and Sea of Mamara in Istanbul.

Somehow I'm not surprised that he was so taken with the devastation of Detroit.  He is, after all, David Byrne.  But, if you've been following this blog, you know that some of my favorite rides here in New York take me through industrial areas of the Bronx, Brooklyn and Long Island City, which are so free of traffic on weekends that they're weirdly bucolic.  I feel the same way about the Wall Street area; the only problem with it is that there isn't nearly as much of it as there are of those old industrial areas.

The thing about Detroit is that he's not the only one who thinks it's an excellent cycling city.  Many riders, who live within the city limits as well as in the suburbs, appreciate the fact that the city is flat, save for the area around Dorais Park. They also like the extensive networks of paths and greenways that line the Detroit River, which separates the city from Windsor, Ontario in Canada. ("Detroit" means "strait" in French.)  In fact, some people cross the border to ride in the home of the Big Three.  

Interestingly (and, I'm sure for the people involved, exasperatingly), there is no way to cycle between Detroit and Windsor.  In fact, the buses from Windsor will allow bicycles only if they're disassembled and in a box or bag.    Even then, the driver has the authority to deny access if he or she feels the bus is too crowded.  On the other hand, there is work on developing a water taxi between the two cities, and it's believed that bicycles will be allowed on them.

Another interesting aspect to Motor City Cycling is that it has a velodrome--in Dorais Park.  If you know about the city's history, it may not be such a surprise:  After all, it was a center for bicycle manufacturing and riding before the auto industry developed.  (In fact, Henry Ford and others associated with the auto industry began as bicycle makers and mechanics.) Even after Chevys and Fords started rolling off the assembly lines, Detroit kept the flame of bicycle racing alive during the Dark Ages (at least for American racing) that followed World War II.

But, in another layer of irony, the Dorais Park Velodrome doesn't go that far back.  In fact, construction on it began during the riots of 1967, and it opened on the day Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon in 1969.  It lay unused and all but abandoned until it was discovered by suburban cyclists who were using the hill for training.

I am not an urban planner or an expert on Detroit.  But I, like almost everyone else in the USA, have some ideas about what Detroit's future could be like.  Denizens of Pittsburgh realized that the steel industry would never be as significant as it was until the 1970's.  So, they took advantage of the fact that the city had some first-class academic institutions like the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie-Mellon, and turned the erstwhile Steel City into a center for biomedical research and technology, much as Boston did earlier.  

Detroit doesn't have the sort of academic institutions that Boston and Pittsburgh have.  But what a lot of people don't realize is that not very far from Detroit are vast stretches of farms.  Michigan has always been a leading agricultural state; perhaps Detroit could become a center of agronomy and other "green"technology.

But even more important (for the purposes of this blog, anyway), the city might be able to take advantage of the shrinkage even its Mayor, David Bing, has advocated.  A more compact Detroit could be ideal for the development of a cycling infrastructure.  Perhaps, in a smaller city, the residential and business areas would be closer together, which would make bicycle commuting--and cycling in general--more feasible and enjoyable for more people.  

Who knows?  Perhaps Detroit could be the next Portland--or Amsterdam.

Jerry's Bike

I wasn't a devotee of the Seinfeld show.  Then again, I don't think I've ever been a devotee of any TV show in a very long time.


However, I will admit that I saw a few episodes of Seinfeld during its original run.  One thing I remember is that he always had a bicycle--which neither he nor anyone else seemed to ride--hanging in his apartment.


I was reminded of it when I saw this bike:

As I recall, the bike in Seinfeld's apartment was a Klein mountain bike--in a really scary fluorescent green that makes the bike in the photo seem restrained.  Actually, this bike is probably the most understated Klein mountain bike I've ever seen.


Although they weren't my cup of tea, some Klein road bikes, like this one,  weren't bad-looking:

In the mid-1970's, Klein was one of the first builders to make bicycle frames from oversized aluminum tubing.  Trek took them over around the time Seinfeld's show began its run.  It seems that Trek made Kleins until about five years ago.  Since then, I haven't seen any new Kleins--or, for whatever reasons, the shops I frequent aren't selling them.