Getting Caught Without My Raingear

Last week, I wrote a post in which I asked you, dear readers, how you decide whether or not to ride in the rain--or when the weather looks chancy.  I also asked whether you bring rain gear if there's a chance of rain.


Well, on my way home last night I felt like an utter fool.  You see, I had to Kingsborough Community College for a workshop and because I agreed to proctor an exam.


Both appointments were in the morning.  So, I anticipated leaving some time in the afternoon.  The day started off bright, sunny and a little bit cool.  The air warmed up, but the skies didn't become any less clear, during the ride--parts of which are quite pleasant.  My destination is in a part of Brooklyn called Manhattan Beach, which looks more like a town on coastal Long Island or Connecticut.  


Well, for various reasons, I ended up staying later than I'd planned.  And, by the time I was ready to leave--around 7:30--rain had begun to fall.  No, forget that.  It was as if the sea, which abuts the campus, was pouring itself over the buildings, paths and gardens.


Of course, I didn't have any rain gear with me.


I thought I could wait it out. After about half an hour, the rain let up.  Not even two minutes after I pedaled off the campus, I rode by the eponymous beach.  You can guess what happened next:  Another deluge, even harder than the one I waited out, came raining down.  The only problem was that there was no shelter.  There were no houses on that stretch, no lean-tos or even trees.  Worse, lightning started to flash all around me.


Within seconds, it seemed, my skirt, blouse and sweater were soaked.  My sandals were like completely full sponges under my feet.


I rode another couple of minutes, to a mini-plaza with a pizzeria, a coffee house and a couple of small stores.  I was about to stop there--the thought of a slice of hot pizza (at a place where I'd had good pizza on other rides)appealed to me.  But the idea of sitting someplace, soaked to my skin, did not.  Then I thought about taking the train, about half a mile away. When I got to the station, though, I realized that the train's air-conditioning might be running.  Sitting in it, in my besoaked condition, definitely would not have been a good idea.

From The Guardian (UK) Bike Blog

So, even though I knew it would take me about an hour and fifteen minutes to get home, I continued to ride.  Somewhere around Brooklyn College, in the middle of Brooklyn, the rain started to let up.  It had all but stopped by the time I crossed the Pulaski Bridge from Greenpoint into Queens.  From there, it's only a few minutes to my apartment.  I stopped at a greengrocer:  the boxes of strawberries and the piles of cherries (both red Bings and yellowish Queen Annes, which taste like a cross between a sweet cherry and a nectarine) in their bins were even more appealing than the pizza had been an hour earlier.  So, after filling my Carradice Nelson Longflap with the luscious fruits, I pedaled home.


The most interesting thing--to me, anyway--was that, except for my sandals, I was dry.  And so was everything in that bag.


That fruit sure was good.  So was the concoction I threw together:  chicken, corn kernels, scallions, chili peppers, Italian green peppers, red bell peppers and mushrooms, all stir fried with a little bit of curry powder and soy sauce, and tossed over some Japanese buckwheat noodles.  Max and Marley were all over me:  They liked the chicken, too. (All right, I cooked some without the vegetables and sauce and noodles for them.)

A Derailleur I Don't Miss

As I've mentioned in earlier posts, I don't do "retro" for the sake of being retro.  I like the ride of high-quality steel frames, and like the look of lugs.  I also like leather saddles and canvas bags, for looks as well as comfort (in the case of saddles) and durability (the bags).  Also, I appreciate the craft that goes into many of those items.

There are some "old-school" parts I really like, too.  As an example, I probably will ride cranks with square-taper bottom bracket axles for as long as they're available. (I went through eight ISIS bottom brackets in the three years I rode a crankset made for them!)   And, I like Lyotard-style platform pedals with toe clips and straps because they don't require the use of special shoes or cleats--and, frankly, they're better-made than most clipless pedals.  (For a time, I was replacing my clipless pedals every year, even if I didn't crash them.)  And, although I've ridden some of the exotic pre-made wheelsets, and owned a couple of pairs, I prefer handbuilt wheels with traditional (not straight-pull) spokes.

On the other hand, I don't understand the fascination with some "old-school" stuff, save for collectors and people who want to do "period" restorations.  

Here is an example of what I mean.  The other day, this derailleur ensemble sold for 170 dollars on eBay.  Granted, it is in New Old Stock (NOS) condition, meaning it had been sitting in some box or drawer for the past forty years.  

While these parts aren't as common as they once were, they haven't exactly disappeared from the planet, either.  The pieces of the ensemble were made by Huret. The shifters and front derailleurs were decent: not as good as Campagnolo's best or almost anything SunTour ever made, but competent enough, especially in their time.  However, there was no excuse for the rear derailleur, even when it came out.

The Huret Luxe Super Touring rear derailleur was scary.  When you rode it, I mean.  It shifted with all of the predictability of Lady Gaga's sartorial choices.  To be fair, the same could be said for most wide-range touring derailleurs of that time (circa 1972) that weren't made by SunTour.  The Campagnolo Gran Turismo didn't shift much better than the Huret.  But at least the Campy GT shared a trait of other Campagnolo derailleurs at that time.  Frank Berto best described that characteristic when he said, of the Nuovo Record, that it would shift poorly forever.  

From VeloBase 

The Luxe's body consisted of spindly stamped steel pieces riveted together.  Even on the "racing" version of the Luxe, which had a shorter pulley cage, the pieces would work themselves apart, destroying even the pretense of shifting ease or precision.  The long-caged version would deteriorate even more quickly because the extra length of cage and chain created even more stress on the fragile body.

For a couple of years, some European bikes (such as the Raleigh Super Course and  Motobecane Mirage) were equipped with this derailleur.  Such bikes were usually "sport" models with a wider range of gears than were typically found on such model.  The Luxe Super Touring may have been the first European derailleur made to shift onto a 32 tooth rear cog.  (The largest most other derailleurs could handle was a 28; racers in those days typically had largest gears of 21 to 24.)  It came out just as SunTour derailleurs were first becoming available outside of Japan; within a couple of years, SunTours would adorn the Super Course, Mirage and many other mid-level European and American bikes.

When it was new, the Luxe ST sold for around twenty dollars; the ensemble in the photo went for about forty.  Within a couple of years of its introduction, SunTour and Shimano derailleurs that shifted much better, and lasted longer, could be had for half as much, at least in the US. (Japanese components were significantly more expensive in Europe.)  Still, it appears that Huret made the Luxe derailleurs until the early 1980's, when Sachs bought Huret and a few other French component makers.

As I said, I can understand someone buying a Luxe or Gran Turismo for a collection or a "period" restoration.  But I would not install them on any bike I intended to ride anywhere besides an "oldies" show.

A Childhood Dream In Hipster Hook

Once again, my travels took me through Hipster Hook.  And, as in previous trips through the area, I saw some interesting bikes.

A few days ago, I saw a vintage Bob Jackson and Masi parked next to each other near Manhattan Avenue in Greenpoint.  Today, just a couple of blocks away, I saw another bike that made me emotional for a different reason.

While I was happy to see the Bob Jackson and Masi just because they're such nice bikes, the one I saw today stirred up a memory.  Actually, a whole bunch of memories.

Mind you, it's not a bike I ever had.  I didn't even have one that was remotely like it--not any that I remember, anyway. Rather, it's a bike I might have had if my childhood had been different.

When I say "different," I'm not talking about having been richer (or poorer) or grown up in some other neighborhood, city, state or country.  I'm talking, of course, about the bike I might have had if I'd grown up as a girl named Justine rather than a boy named Nick.


As best as I can tell, this Schwinn Hollywood is from 1967.  At least, that is when Schwinn offered this model (and a few others) in this color.

Of course I love the curves on the bike.  But, as you can probably tell, I love the color even more.  Yes, even as a 12-year-old boy I loved that color--and the shape of the bike.  Of course, in the time and place where I grew up, I wasn't going to admit that.  

I was tempted to wait for its owner and offer to buy it.  Somehow I think she (or he?) wouldn't have sold it.  Even if its owner had no idea of how rare (and possibly valuable) that bike could be, I think she or he is taken with its charm--not to mention its color!

Besides, I'd need more space (not to mention time and money) for it.  I don't think I'd want to leave it outside at night, even in my relatively safe neighborhood.  A childhood dream deserves better.

Life On A Rainy Day

Today has been unusually cool for this time of year.  It's also rained on and off throughout the day.  I managed to ride for about half an hour.

After a dinner of shrimp and corn bisque, tilapia coated with cornmeal, freshly-ground black pepper and thyme and sauteed in olive oil with capers and lemon, and a vegetable medley, I did some work.  But Marley (r) and Max had their own way of coping.  Oh, by the way, they dined on poached tilapia.

Rain Gear Or Not?

It's been raining on and off today.  Meteorologists forecast more of the same for the next three days or so.  


My grandmother used to joke about "walking between the raindrops."  Has anyone ever cycled between raindrops?  I've ridden between bouts of rain.  In fact, that's what I did today.  


Whenever I've gone on a multi-day ride, I've brought rain gear with me.  Sometimes I'll bring it on a day ride.  But today I didn't bring any with me.  


Do you usually bring rain gear if you think there's a chance of getting wet?  Do you take your chances?  Or do you not ride in the rain at all?


Whether or not you ride in the rain, you've got to admire this cyclist's sense of style:

From Cyclingtops.com

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.