Wandering Into An Early Start

I've a question for those of you who commute:  How much do you vary your routes?  

Also:  Have you ever made a wrong turn, or even gotten lost, on a ride to work or a routine appointment?

Today, I could answer "yes" to the first part of my second question.  After wheeling out of my apartment, I proceeded two blocks further on 23rd Street than I normally would before making a right turn.  You might say that subconsciously (or, perhaps, not-so-sub-consciously), I wanted to make that diversion: I had left early and the weather could hardly have been better.  In fact, if I hadn't had to go to work, I would have made a few more "wrong" turns!

At first, what I got was nothing more than a slight change of scenery: I was riding along 30th Avenue, which I know but don't cycle very often because it is narrow and lined with stores.  Motorists frequently pull away from the curb, or dart into any parking space that becomes available, without paying much attention to other motorists or cyclists.  Also, pedestrians frequently dart out from between cars in the middle of a block, or saunter into that narrow space between the parking and traffic lanes, seemingly oblivious to everything else.

But, ironically, there was less traffic as I neared LaGuardia Airport.  Actually, it does make sense:   Wednesday is not a heavy travel day.  From there, it wasn't far to the World's Fair Marina Promenade.  Today was one of those days in which even the metallic hues of Flushing Bay seem almost idyllic.  

From there, I crossed the Northern Boulevard Bridge and made a couple more wrong turns under some trees that haven't yet begun to change color.  You might say that I was in a kind of seasonal denial, that I was holding onto one last moment of summer before going in to work.

The greatest irony of today is that, in spite of my meanderings, my office mates and students remarked on how early I arrived.

The FIrst Bike Lane?

Now  here's an interesting way to commute by bicycle.

Arthur Hotchkiss envisioned this monorail for bicycles as the future of getting to and from work when he built it during the 1890's.  Most roads then would make today's potholed city streets seem like magic carpets; amazingly, many cyclists still pedaled "high-wheelers" or "penny farthings, which were much less stable  and were more likely than today's bikes to be toppled by ruts and potholes.  Hotchkiss' bike "railroad" spanned muddy fields as well as a stream. 

Hezekiah Smith backed the project.  He owned a factory in a western New Jersey hamlet--named for him-- that, at the time, was making about a quarter of America's woodworking equipment.  Poor conditions, particularly when it rained, caused tardiness in his workers.

The bicycles that glided along the rail bore little resemblance to today's two-wheelers.  They had two mismatched wheels (one 20 inches in diameter, the other 12). Instead of pushing on pedals, the cyclist had to repeatedly depress a ratchet mechanism as if he were pumping air into a tire.  

There was only single rail.  So one cyclist had to dismount and allow the other to pass before resuming his trip.  As you can imagine, head-on collisions were frequent and tempers flared.

But these problems were not the ones that doomed the "railroad."  Rather, the introduction of the "safety" bicycle (with both wheels the same size, along with improving road conditions, made bicycle commuting more feasible.  So, the railroad's ridership declined and it went bankrupt in 1898.  No trace of it--or Smith's factory.  His company didn't survive the Great Depression.

It's interesting to think of what bike lanes would be like today if Hotchkiss and Smith's "railroad had survived a few more years.

Forever Locked To History

To myself, I debated whether or not I wanted to publish this.  Most of the "commemorations" of the 9/11 attacks seem like mindless chatter or grandstanding to me; I can scarcely stand to hear anything about it save from people--or their families or friends--who were directly affected by it.  

But I thought this photo would be a simple yet eloquent reminder of what happened on that day:

These bicycles and the rack were retrieved from the wreckage of the Twin Towers and are now housed, along with other items recovered from the World Trade Center, in Hangar 17 of John F. Kennedy International Airport.


Some of these bikes are twisted, almost mangled.  But they are still locked to the rack.  People rode them--probably to work--and locked them to the rack, where they will probably stay forever.

Holy Drillium, Eddy!

No matter how attractive you are, you have at least one photo of yourself that makes you wonder, "What was I thinking?"

It might be the hairstyle or clothing you wore when the photo was taken.  You can excuse yourself by remembering that they were en vogue at the time the photo was taken. Still, you wonder how you or anyone else dressed or looked that way.  

That's how I see most photos of myself.  Similarly, I look at pictures of some of my old bikes, and those my riding buddies and other cyclists rode, and wonder what possessed us to ride some of the stuff we rode. 

There are those scary '80's neon fade paint jobs.  And Benotto handlebar tape:  Available in colors to go or clash with those fade paint jobs!  But the first utterly pointless bike fade I can recall is "drillium."  Weight weenies of the '70's and early '80's drilled and slotted every part of every bicycle on which such things were even remotely possible--and even a few that nobody ever thought to drill.  As an example, holes were drilled in the toe clips of the bicycle Eddy Mercx rode to the hour record in Mexico City in 1972.

But I don't think even he went to this extreme:

Someone is selling it on eBay. Is it a seatpost with holes in it?  Or is it seatpost material formed around the holes?

After A Storm

It's hard to believe that less than 24 hours earlier, a storm that spawned tornadoes battered this stretch of shoreline at Point Lookout:

To my knowledge, a twister didn't blow through here.  However, funnels touched down in Breezy Point, near Rockaway Beach, and the Canarsie section of Brooklyn.  

Miraculously, I encountered scarcely a puddle on my ride to Point Lookout--in spite of all the rain every part of the Tri-State Area had yesterday! That made life easy for me and Arielle:

Bikes And Guns

I've never been too keen on guns.  Now, I'm not one of those people who thinks that getting a gun can turn someone into a mass murderer or serial killer.  (It seems that about 95 percent of the people I've met in the academic world believe something like that.) Two of my uncles were hunters; I simply never had any desire to join them.  And, although I had firearms training in my youth, I have  never had any inclination to own or use a firearm.

Most of the cyclists I know aren't gun enthusiasts, either.  I've known one cyclist who shot for sport, but only at inanimate targets on designated shooting ranges.  Other than that former riding buddy (a woman, actually!), the worlds of bicycles and guns have never, in any way, intersected for me.

What I just wrote would astonish or confound a cyclist of the 1890's.  Then, not only was it common for cyclists to carry "pieces" with them; it was more or less de rigeur.  And, Sears and Roebuck as well as other retailers offered revolvers, pistols and rifles designed especially for cyclists!

What's more, a few companies, such as Iver-Johnson and, yes, Smith and Wesson (!) actually made both guns and bikes.  The cities in which most firearms were made, such as Worcester, Springfield and Fitchburg in Massachusetts; Hartford, CT and Paterson, NJ, were also centers of the bicycle industry.l  Similarly, Birmingham and St. Etienne  also were the capitals of bike- and gun- making in England and France, respectively.  (They were also the centers of their nations' steel industries.)

As best as I can tell, guns made for cyclists differed from others in that they had shorter barrels so that they could fit into jacket or vest pockets.  Also, firearms for cyclists had mechanisms that prevented them from firing accidentally.   It would be an especially important feature, I think, for those who mounted "penny farthings" or high-wheelers, as riders tended to fall off them more often than those who pedaled "safety" bicycles.

The connection between firearms and bicycles extends, not surprisingly, to bicycle components.   Machine guns first became part of warfare during World War I.  A French soldier would study their mechanisms and use them as the basis for what remains, to this date, one of the greatest innovations in cycling:  Le Cyclo derailleur, which Albert Raimond designed and began to manufacture in 1923.  It is said to be the first reliable and practical derailleur made, and was seen on tandems in England into the 1970's.  Raimond would move to England and, with Louis Camillis, founded the British Cyclo gear company.  Their freewheels and other parts (including the derailleur, which became the Cyclo Standard) owed much in their designs and manufacturing techniques to the armaments used during the so-called Great War.

Cyclo Standard derailleur, 1930's.  From Disraeligears.

Today, few people make any connection between bicycles and firearms or warfare.  But, for better or worse, the development of the bicycle and that of firearms were once inseparable.  I wonder how our bikes today would ride, shift and brake had they not been such a relationship between wheels and revolvers.  Would frames have brazed-on brackets for carrying short rifles?  Hmm...

What To Do With A Rescued Frame

About a week ago, I mentioned that I "rescued" a rather nice old frame.

Turns out, I have most of the parts I'd need to build it.  So now the question is:  Into what kind of a bike should I build it?

As best as I can tell, this frame is a 1983 Trek 560.  That year, it was sold as a complete bike with SunTour Blue Line derailleurs along with a mixture of other Japanese components, most of which were reliable if not fancy.  However, in that component mix was a Helicomatic freewheel.  It was a good idea, and, had it been better-executed,  we might be riding it, or other hubs based on its design, instead of Campangnolo- and Shimano-style cassette hubs.

The frame itself was made from Reynolds 501 tubing.  Apparently, Reynolds made it for only a few years during the 1980's.  It's butted, but heavier than 531, 631 or 853.  Also, it differs from those higher-quality Reynolds tube sets in that it has a seam.   It's actually much like the tubing used to make the Bridgestone RB-2 I rode briefly, until it was stolen.  

A number of entry-level racing bikes (or relaxed road bikes) were constructed of 501 during the mid-1980's.  In addition to Trek, Peugeot, Gitane and a few other European bike manufacturers made bikes from this tubing.

The paint on this Trek is in pretty rough shape.  It's better on the seat tube because there had been a "panel" decal there, which was removed.   I suppose I could paint it and build a pretty bike from it.  But I'm thinking of turning the bike into a "beater" or winter bike.  If I do that, I will probably use a single speed (perhaps a "flip-flop" hub) on the rear and a single chainring.  And I have a scratched-up pair of Velo Orange Porteur bars (which have become my favorite upright bar).  

If I turn it into a "beater" or winter bike, the parts are going to be functional but not fancy.  On the other hand, if I take more care and make it prettier, I might end up selling it.  Whatever I do, this is going to be an interesting project, I think.

Getting There: Further Improvement To The World's Fair Marina Promenade

Yesterday I rode along the Worlds Fair Marina promenade on my way to work.  As I reported a couple of weeks ago, the path had been extended to the Northern Boulevard Bridge.  But there was a problem:  access to the Northern Boulevard Bridge.  

To get to the bridge's walkway, you have to cross an entrance ramp to the Grand Central Parkway. The worst part is that it is on a sharp curve, so motorists approaching the ramp are likely not to see cyclists or pedestrians crossing it.   At night, the visibility is even worse.

Well, since my previous post about this route, a crosswalk has been painted, and curbs have been cut at each end of it.  Best of all, there's a traffic signal there. 

Although it's an improvement, I still think there is a problem with the crossing. Because motorists approach it from a curve, they may not see the signal until they are within feet of it.  And, unless there's a traffic jam, they drive through the curve at highway speeds, or close to them. So I have to wonder whether some of those motorists could slow down and stop quickly enough when they approach that crossing.  

So, even though it's safer than it had been, anyone crossing from the bike lane to the bridge needs to be, really, just as cautious as he or she might have been before the improvements.

Getting there....

A Hosteler

How many of you have gone on a hostelling trip?

As I anticipated my first bike trip abroad, I told people I was going to stay in hostels, at least for part of my trip. In those days, most Americans--at least those I knew--had no idea of what a hostel was.  What's really funny, in retrospect, is that some of the grown-ups in my life (I thought I was one; now I know I wasn't!) were actually more worried about that than about my plan to camp on nights when I didn't stay in hostels. 

Actually, I didn't bring camping equipment with me, save for a sleeping bag and Swiss Army knife.  On those nights when I "camped", I slept under bridges, overhangs or the stars (or clouds).  

In the months leading up to that trip, I pored over hostel guides.  In one of them, I found out that there was actually such a thing as a hosteling bike.  In fact, the French bike company Gitane actually made a model called "The Hosteler."

When hosteling, one doesn't have to carry quite as much equipment as is necessary for camping. So, a hosteler probably can get away with riding a lighter bike with a somewhat shorter wheelbase-- and, while he or she would need sturdy pannier racks, they probably wouldn't have to be quite as strong as a camper would need.

At least, that's what I surmised when I saw the one and only Gitane Hosteler I ever saw.  It looked like a nice bike, and I expect that it would be, as Gitane made some well-designed and crafted bikes.  (However, you never knew what components you'd get on your Gitane:  They had a reputation for using whatever they had on hand.  So, as an example, one model came with Huret Allvit, Simplex Prestige, Huret Svelto and Campagnolo Valentino rear deraileurs--all within the same model year!)

Anyway, I indulged in a few memories on coming across the photo I've included in this post. The owner of the Gitane Hosteler had just had it restored.  However, I don't think there are any original parts on it!  Still, it's a fine bike for hosteling.  If anything, the modern drivetrain components made it even better.

Bicycle Races: A Labor Day Tradition

To many Americans, today--Labor Day--is the unofficial last day of summer.

To many American cyclists and cycling fans, Labor Day weekend marks the end of the racing season.  According to VeloNews, regional races dominate this weekend's cycling slate.  There is an omnium in St. Louis; there are stage races in, among other places, Vermont and Colorado and a variety of one-day and stage races, as well as criteriums, on courses all over the nation from Massachusetts to California.

While most of these races originated during the past thirty or so years, there are some Labor Day events that have been running for as long as bicycle races and Labor Day have been in existence.

That makes sense when you realize that bicycle racing in the United States began at roughly the same time Labor Day began to be celebrated.  On Tuesday, 5 September 1882, rhe first labor festival was celebrated in New York; within three years, other industrial centers had their own celebrations.  Oregon (Doesn't it figure?) became the first state to establish the holiday in its state constitution, and in 1894. Labor Day became a Federal holiday.

Many still consider the 1890's and the first years of the 20th Century to be the "golden age" of bicycle racing in the US. While bicycling was fashionable among the monied set (In those days, a typical bike cost about $100: about  $2700 in today's money.), prominent racers of that time typically came from the working classes and were immigrants or their children.  In fact, the first African-American sports superstar was Major Taylor, who set several world records

The connection between cycling and labor indeed ran deep: The manufacture of bicycles was one of the major industries in some of the nation's industrial centers, such as Worcester, MA; Hartford, CT; Paterson, NJ; Philadelphia, Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis---and, of course, New York.  Not surprisingly, those cities hosted races on Labor Day as well as at other times of the year.

Even after the introduction of the automobile, large numbers of people rode bicycles to work and for recreation--and, of course, countless kids rode them to school and the local park.  The decline in adult cycling didn't begin until the automobile became a mass-market item during the 1920's.  However, bicycle racing continued its popularity, particularly among the working classes and in communities of European immigrants.  Track races, including the six-day events, filled venues such as Madison Square Garden in the 1930's; on the eve of World War II, only baseball was a more popular spectator sport than track racing.  (Interestingly, the third-most popular sport was soccer, which drew its players from the same demographic groups as bicycle racing.)

Six-day racers during the 1930's.  From Deadspin.

In another example of how the worlds of cycling and labor intersected  the six-day races actually prompted New York City and Chicago to pass laws forbidding cyclists from riding more than 12 hours a day.  Six-day racing was a dangerous sport, and the fans couldn't get enough of it.  

Even during the "dark ages" of US cycling--the two decades or so years following World War II--Labor Day races were held in a number of places across the United States, though mainly in the Northeast and Upper Midwest, and on the West Coast.