It seems that every time I take Arielle out for a ride, I see other pretty bikes.
Today's trek was no exception. On my way to Point Lookout, I wasn't even a mile from my apartment when I saw this gem locked to a signpost:
At first glance, it might seem like just another bike-boom era French mixte bike. But, as I passed it, the white pinstriping on the lovely blue fork caught my eye. When I turned did an about-face to get a look at it, I noticed some nicer detailing than one usually finds on such a bike:
If those aren't Nervex lugs--which they probably aren't, given that the frame is built of regular carbon-steel tubing rather than, say, Reynolds 531 or Vitus 888--they are a reasonable facsimile. More to the point, some care seems to have been taken in joining and finishing them.
Also, you might be able to see the brazed-on pump peg and shift levers. The components were typical of bikes from that era: steel cottered crank, Huret Luxe derailleurs, Normandy hubs and RIgida steel rims. Everything, it seemed, was original equipment except for the tires and the brakes. The latter component had a label that read "centerpull," but no brand name. Bikes like these usually came with Mafac or Weinmann centerpulls; I am guessing that this bike came with the former, as the bars sported Mafac levers.
The steel "rat trap" pedals are also, I suspect, original equipment. They are a variation I've seen only on a few bikes:
It looks like a cross between a cage and a platform. I've never tried such a pedal, but I suspect it would be more comfortable with soft-soled shoes than the steel cages on pedals found on similar bikes.
Even with such lovely details, I couldn't help but to chuckle at the bike's brand name:
If you've ever been in a boulangerie, you know that a ficelle is a long, skinny loaf of bread. (Not all French breads are baguettes!) Actually, "ficelle" means "thread" or "string"; it's the diminutive of "fiche", or strand.
I've seen only a few of these bikes, even in France: They seem to have been a small regional manufacturer. I can't find any recent information about them, so I don't know whether or not they're still in business. Perhaps they were taken over by a batard like Peugeot.
Now I'm going to repeat a shocking confession I made in one of my earliest posts on this blog: I was a Scout.
Actually, they're called "Scouts" today. But back when I was in uniform, they were "Boy Scouts". So, you might ask, if I was dealing with a gender-identity conflict, why did I join the Boy Scouts--especially when neither of my parents, nor any other adult in my life, nudged me into it?
You might have guessed at least part of the answer: I was trying to fit in. But I also got to spend time away from home and school on camping trips and such.
I mention my Scouting because, believe it or not, the Boy Scouts had a merit badge for bicycling. (They still have it.) I was the first in my troop to earn the badge; if that troop still exists, I'm guessing that others have earned it.
For most merit badges, the scoutmaster or some other adult approved by him was supposed to supervise whatever work you did for the badge. At that time, there still weren't very many adult cyclists--at least not in the part of New Jersey to which my family had moved me. So, my scoutmaster, Mr. Kroner (who was also a county judge) basically took my word that I did the rides of fifteen, twenty-five and fifty miles. Being the good Scout that I was, I kept my Scout's honor and did those rides.
As I remember, I had to show that I could fix a flat tire and do a couple of other basic repairs. I demonstrated those to Judge Kroner. He quizzed me on the rules of the road and hand signals, and He signed off on the badge.
Actually, Cycling wasn't the only merit badge I earned for doing things I would have done anyway. As I recall, there was a merit badge for Scholarship, which required, as I remember, a "B" average and to do some sort of research project or paper. There was also one for Reading: I think I had to read twelve books and write brief reports or summaries. Mrs. McKenna, my English teacher, signed off on both of those merit badges.
Perhaps the strangest merit badge I earned was for Fingerprinting. At that time, a show called "The FBI", starring Efram Zimbalist Jr. as Agent Erskine, aired every Sunday night. My father never missed an episode. I often watched it and actually found myself fascinated with how fingerprinting and other techniques were used to solve crimes. I asked Judge Kroner about the badge; he arranged a visit to the forensics lab for me, where one of the officers showed me how fingerprints were made and what made each one different. All I did was listen to the guy and I had another badge.
But I digress. Today I take issue with the Scouts' ban policies on gays (and, to my knowledge, trans boys). But I also do not forget that they were the first group of people to reward me for cycling!
I came across this infographic from Bike Philadlephia. It compares bicyclists in the City of Brotherly Love to those of other cities.
Actually, I like it as much for its design as for the information in it!
Today, in one of the college's bike racks, I saw something interesting:
I apologize that I couldn't get take a better photo. But, as you can see, it's a small-wheeled bike that doesn't have a folding or collapsible frame. It seems like a variant on the "Shopper" bike, which Bobbin and a few other companies have re-introduced during the last couple of years.
The medium-wide semi-slick tires are what one might expect to see on a city bike. And the bike's low profile makes for quick mounting and dismounting. Those features were common on the "shopper" bikes Raleigh and a few other English companies made during the 1960's and 1970's. Those bikes were very popular in Albion, but didn't seem to find much of an audience anywhere else. I think one reason may be that, in the US at any rate, people equated the small wheels with folding or children's bikes.
The bike in the photo differs slightly from those bikes, and from the Bobbin "shopper" I saw at Adeline's and in last year's New Amsterdam bike show. For one thing, the Bobbin, like the classic "shopper," comes with an internally-geared hub, while the bike in the photo has a rear derailleur with six speeds. Also, the Bobbin and the older bikes had fenders, chainguards and lights: They looked rather like classic three-speeds with smaller wheels and a somewhat tighter geometry.
Also, the bike in the photo has white(!) rims and chain. Could the maker (I could find only a "C" logo) be trying to appeal to hipsters? Even if that's the intent, I think it's an interesting bike. I was surprised to see it parked at the college. Then again, it might be just the right bike for a lot of student commuters or for students on residential campuses. In other words, it just might become a "collegiate" bike.
One day, I was talking with someone I admired as an artist and took as a kind of spiritual adviser. (I was young then.) I asked her what she wanted most.
I was expecting something deep and profound--or, at least, something that would have sounded deep and profound to me back then. (I think it was around the time I read Herman Hesse's Steppenwolf and Siddhartha.) Here's what she said:
A simple life and innocent times.
Now, at the time I thought neither was possible--and, that, in fact, they were marketing tropes. Yep, you can live the simple life if you can afford it, and you can have innocent times if your world is, well, a simple place. The truth is, of course, that I never could have had innocent times because I wasn't so innocent and times were never simple because I was simpler than I was willing to acknowledge.
But I digress. For the first time in decades, I thought of that encounter when I stumbled across this photo:
I can just imagine unrolling what's strapped to the saddle and unfurling myself on it, in a field where I might fill the basket on the front of the bike:
I guess there are actually people who live that way. Goddess bless 'em. (Hey, changing genders turned me into a feminist!)
Both photos come from the lovely blog A Serene Life For Me.
What if Salvador Dali were hired to design a bike frame--and he only did the top tube?
The result might look something like this:
I had never before seen such a frame sporting Bianchi logos. But now that I think of it, I'm not surprised. The Bianchi in the photo was made in Japan for Bianchi during the 1980's. Back then, the most famous Italian bicycle manufacturer was rebranding bikes built by Panasonic, Bridgestone and, it was rumoried, Miyata, for the US market.
When you look at this Panasonic closely, you realize why Bianchi made such a move. During the 1970's and early 1980's, Japanese makers like the ones I've mentioned, and Fuji and Nishiki, took over much of the entry- and mid-level market for road and touring bikes in the US. There were good reasons for that: The Japanese companies were offering better bikes for the money than most of their European and American rivals. Their quality control was more consistent: Highland Park Cyclery sold Miyata and Panasonic when I worked there, and I don't recall having to return one for a defect. On the other hand, I saw braze-ons break off a Peugeot and Treks that had miscut threads and wheels that didn't hold up for very long.
Perhaps the biggest "draw" of Japanese bikes was that their drivetrains usually shifted more accurately and (a major selling point with new cyclists) more easily than those on their European counterparts. The Panasonic in the second photo was the lowest-level ten-speed bike the company offered at the time, but its Shimano derailleur outshifted all but the very top models made in Europe at the time. The BIanchi is a few levels up from the Panasonic, and its Shimano gears were more accurate and less fussy, I would submit, than any others--except for the ones made by Sun Tour.
Of course, BIanchi would not be the only company to re-brand Japanese bikes for sale in the US. Some of the most famous examples of such bikes were the "Voyageur" and "LeTour" lines Schwinn sold; Raleigh, Peugeot and other companies would also offer bikes from the Land of the Rising Sun. Other companies, like Motobecane, would continue to make bikes in their home countries but equip them with Japanese derailleurs, freewheels and cranksets--and, later, other components--for American cyclists.
But not all of those companies offered bikes with the frame design of the BIanchi and Panasonic you see in this post. In fact, frames with top tubes so shaped were made for only a few years, or so it seemed. A couple of years ago, Trek revived a modified version of it on their "Belleville" city/porteur bike:
I have never ridden a bike with such a configuration, but I can see the benefit of it, particularly for cyclists with disproportionately short legs. I would think that people who, for other reasons, want a frame that offers more clearance than the traditional diamond design but don't want something more rigid or stable than a traditional women's, or even a mixte, frame would also like such a design.
Here's what I always wondered: If you buy one of those bikes, do you get a watch with it? Or a bike computer: Imagine if Salvador Dali designed those!
Spring has (supposedly) sprung upon us. Yesterday was Easter. So this is supposed to be a time of renewal--or, at least, to shake off my midlife crisis.
So I decided to take on a new sport. Actually, I made up my mind to, finally, take a go at one of the few areas of cycling I'd never before tried.
No, I'm not doing a biathlon or ice-fishing on my bike. What I'm doing, instead, is something I always said I was "too old" to do, mainly because by the time I'd heard about it, I was already older than most of the cyclists involved in it.
I'm talking, of course, about BMX racing. If this is how I resolve my midlife crisis, I figure it's better than being a "cougar" or buying a red sport convertible (which I couldn't afford, even if i wanted it).
So far, my decision is working out well. I already have my first commercial endorsement:
Coming soon to a box of Kellogg's Corn Flakes near you.
"Mind if I ride your wheel?"
"No, not at all!"
He didn't realize it's the best--or, at least my favorite--question anyone has asked me in a while. It's as good as "How old are you? Forty?"
We'd been playing "tag" along Cross Bay Boulevard, the road that runs the length of an island in Jamaica Bay between Howard Beach and Rockaway Beach. It's a long (about 4km) flat stretch, which makes almost anyone on a bike feel like a sprinter, at least for a few minutes. The day was sunny, though chilly, and we were buffeted by the winds one expects at this time of year. Still, I think both he and I felt about ten years younger.
Actually, I felt even younger than that. A man--a trim one, who looked like he'd been riding more than I'd been--wanting to draft my wheel. Hey, if he'd asked me, I probably would have pulled him with one hand!
Somehow he looked familiar. He was maybe a centimeter, if that, taller than me and, as I mentioned, trimmer. His dark beard was flecked with gray, and his fair black skin had a few small wrinkles. I'd've guessed him to be close to my own age. That guess would turn out to be correct.
As we talked, I couldn't help but to think we'd met--actually, ridden--together. When I was living in Park Slope, he was living on the other side of Prospect Park, in Crown Heights. Now he lives in Bedford-Stuyvesant. So, naturally, we talked about riding in Prospect Park, and how we both had the "ten lap" rule: Once we could ride that much in the park without much effort--something that would happen around this time of year, maybe a bit earlier--we'd "graduate" to longer rides outside the park,and even outside of Brooklyn or New York City. I had a feeling I'd ridden with him on at least one of those longer rides; he had the same feeling.
He also mentioned that he'd road-raced, around the same time I did. Like me, he quit racing (and I also stopped riding off-road) after turning 40: Although, ironically, I had more strength and endurance than I did 15 years earlier, my wounds weren't healing as quickly as they once did. He also gave that as a reason for not chasing trophies, and other riders.
I rode with him for a couple of hours and, actually, off the route I'd planned to ride. But I didn't mind: Just as I was wondering whether I'd ever get myself into any kind of shape, ever again, he wanted to ride my wheel. And he thought I'd been riding more than he'd been. To be fair, I have to give at least some of the credit to Arielle:
To answer a question you might be asking: He gave me his name (which was familiar) and told me where he works.
No, I didn't go hunting today. Two of my uncles and my maternal grandfather hunted for sport (and food). I cannot imagine myself doing such a thing--unless, perhaps, I were really desperate.
But I digress. You may have noticed a staff propping up the "dog". There are four such decoys or statues or whatever they are in a playground in Fort Totten Park, where I rode today.
The day was a bit colder than normal for this time of year. The wind was to be expected. However, I think it was the sky that made this afternoon feel more autumnal than spring-like.
However, Tosca looks good in any season, if I do say so myself.
The weather this "spring" is nothing like it was at this time last year. Yesterday was the first day since the equinox that the temperature rose above 50F (10C). Plus, we've had various combinations of precipitation, on and off, ever since the official beginning of the season.
Today I got out for a brief ride after an errand. Along Greenwich Street, near the meat-packing district, I spotted this:
These days, it's hardly remarkable to see a bike parked on just about any street in New York. But I wondered about the desert boots (That's what we used to call them back in the day) someone left beside it.
Sometimes I see pairs of shoes left outside the doors of buildings in parts of Brooklyn and Queens. That usually means that the building is a mosque. However, I didn't think that the building behind the shoes--and bike--was used for Islamic prayer services.
Although the "tongue" of the left shoe stuck out, I didn't get the impression that the shoes were abandoned. Still, I had to wonder why they were left next to that bicycle.
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