More Fruits Of The "Harvest", After Work

Today brought more of what we've had for the past couple of days--and what meteorologists are forecasting for the next couple of days:  summer warmth and early autumn light.

All right, they didn't forecast the light, except to tell us what time the sun will set.  But the sun is taking on an early twilight glow and, as I mentioned yesterday, I am seeing a few trees start their color changes.  It's quite lovely:  the first signs of autumn hues haven't yet brought the melancholy that comes later in the season (which, by the way, I often enjoy). 

Another day in the cusp of two seasons gave me another opportunity to relish my harvest, so to speak: I took an after-work ride to Coney Island.  While I enjoyed the ride, I did notice it more when I pedaled into the wind today than I did yesterday or on Monday, when I rode to Connecticut.  Perhaps it was a result of riding late in the day, after work.  Or it may have just been a matter of riding my  Schwinn LeTour instead of one of my Mercians.

Whatever the case, I had an easy ride back.  And it was interesting, to say the least, to see how much difference a week and a half makes on the number of people who go to the beach:

Some folks, like the ones in the photo, will go to the beach on any day the weather is remotely summer-like--and sometimes not-so-summery.  They are the ones who have decided it's still summer (which, of course, it still is--at least officially).  They are not like the ones who don't ever go to the beach after Labor Day or before Memorial Day, whatever the weather.

I guess we have equivalents to both kinds of people in the cycling world.  Some hang up their bikes as the days grow shorter, while others take any opportunity, at whatever time of year, to ride.

As for me, I will continue to enjoy the "harvest" for as long as I can--and continue to ride as long as the streets aren't covered with ice.

The Harvest Begins

The other day felt autumnal.  It wasn't just the cool, crisp air or the fact that I was in Connecticut.  I couldn't pinpoint exactly why I felt the fall had begun, or was well on its way, but I think I now know why.

Today the temperature reached 31C (88F), but the day still seemed autumnal.  Granted, we didn't have the sauna-like humidity we had during an earlier heat wave. But there was something else.  At first I thought it was just a feeling, but I realize now it was as visual as it was visceral.

Before going to work, I managed to ride by the Concrete Plant Park along the Bronx River.  I could swear I saw the first tinges of yellow and orange in a few trees:

And, because there is less daylight every day than there was earlier in the summer, the sun isn't as intense, and the ground and buildings don't have as much time to absorb the heat. So, while the air temperature climbed over 30C, the heat didn't feel as oppressive as it did a few weeks ago.

There's one more signal of Fall, for me.  My rides, whether to Connecticut or the college, seem easier now.  That is one of the things I've always loved about cycling in September and October, at least in years when I've done a decent amount of riding:  I can climb hills in a gear or two higher than I did in, say, April or even June.  Also, on my ride the other day, I was pedaling into a 20-25 KPH wind most of the way to Connecticut and barely noticed it.

Since I have never farmed (and probably never will), the kind of cycling I've experienced this week is probably the closest I will come to a harvest:  I am enjoying the fruits of all of the pedaling I've done over the past few months.

Disc Brake Failures, Now And Then

A few days ago "The Retrogrouch" alerted us to a disc brake failure reported on Bike Radar.  

One of BR''s test riders was riding a Specialized Tarmac Pro with Shimano R 785 disc brakes through Rocky Mountain National Park, on a course with some long and steep climbs and descents.  It's really not the sort of ride on which you want to lose your braking power.

The rider, Ben Delaney, describes what happened on a descent:  "I felt my rear brake go soft for perhaps 30 seconds, with the lever feeling mushy, and then go out completely.  Pulling the lever all the way had zero effect on the rear caliper."




Fortunately for him, he didn't crash and his front brake still worked well enough for him to complete his ride, and he wasn't hurt.  After the ride, he contacted Shimano and they retrieved the hose and caliper.

According to Shimano America road product manager Dave Lawrence, the failure was the result of an oil leak caused by a crack in the right side piston.  That crack wasn't caused by heat generated from braking, according to Lawrence's report.  The investigators observed slightly higher-than-normal disc pad contact with the rotor. "We have made several machine and riding tests in similar conditions, and we have not been able to replicate similar damage to the piston", the report continues.

What, exactly, caused that piston to crack is a fair question:  one that neither Shimano nor anyone else seems able to answer.  To be fair, that alone is not a wholesale indictment of disc brakes or Shimano.  However, it does beg the question of just how sensible or necessary disc brakes are for bicycles. 

On the few occasions when I felt my cable-and-caliper (i.e., dual-pivot or single pivot sidepulls, centerpulls, cantilevers or V-brakes, all of which I have used at some point or another) losing power or modulation, I didn't completely lose my braking ability and, when I stopped, I was able to spot and fix the problem quickly.  And, even when riding with loaded panniers in the Alps, Rockies, Pyrenees, Adirondacks and in the Green Mountains, whatever caliper brakes I used were sufficient as long as my pads and cables were good.

Now, I've worked as a mechanic in bike shops. But even before I started doing so, I'd taught myself how to fix my brakes, as well as other parts of my bike.  A cable-actuated caliper brake system can be adjusted with a minimum of tools:  In fact, most can be done without specialized bicycle tools (although said specialized tools certainly make the job easier and faster).  There is certainly something to be said for such simplicity when you're 100 kilometers from the nearest village.

Also, as "The Retrogrouch" points out, hydraulic disc brakes in cars and trucks are larger and more robust, and more protected from the elements, than any disc brake that could ever be fitted to a bicycle.  The ones scaled down to fit bikes will be more finicky and thus more prone to breakdowns--not to mention adding weight and complication to the bicycle.

The disc brake failure experienced by Delaney of Bike Radar, and relayed to us by "The Retrogrouch" is also not the first such failure.  In fact, bicycle disc brakes were failing in the 1980s, long before Shimano ever thought to manufacture them.

In those days, high-quality racing tandems were usually fitted with front and rear cantilever brakes, while touring tandems added a third caliper brake (usually a sidepull) on the rear.  A few tandems, usually custom-made, came with a drum brake attached to the rear hub.  The best of them was made by Arai in Japan.

Arai drum brake on Fat Chance tandem, 1985

For a time, some custom tandems came with this rear disc brake made by Phil Wood:

Phil Wood disc brake, 1980s

It's certainly an impressive piece of machinery, as most of Phil's products are.  Trust me; I know:  I use some of them,


The disc, made of an asbestos composite, was attached to the hub by a series of splines.  Those splines were prone to stripping, which caused a loss of braking.  To Phil Wood's credit, they responded to the situation rather quickly:  After only a few reports of incidents (none of which resulted in injury), the brakes were pulled from the market.

Again, I emphasize that while I question the wisdom of using disc brakes on bicycles, I do not believe that the problems or incidents I've mentioned are an indictment of disc brakes themselves.  Rather, I think they show that Shimano is trying to make something work 30 years after Phil Wood--known for making bike components that work better and  last longer than others--couldn't do it.  Not all technologies are transferrable from automobiles (or aircraft) to bicycles, and disc brakes might be one of those technologies.

N.B.:  Phil Wood discs were manufactured before the ban on manufacturing asbestos products was enacted in 1989.  That ban was overturned only two years later under pressure from lobbyists for the asbestos industry.

A Monday Off + Beautiful Fall Day = Connecticut Ride

Is this a New England Congregationalist church, or what?

Somehow I don't think that anyone attending such a church would have asked such a question, let alone phrased it as I did.  Has any Congregationalist or Unitarian--or, for that matter, any congregant in a High Episcopalian church--ever ended a question with "or what"?

As you probably guessed, I pedaled into Connecticut again today.  You see, I work in one of those jobs, in one of those parts of the world, where I get off from work on Jewish holidays even though I'm not Jewish.  In fact, I would venture to say that in the college in which I teach, there are departments with more Jewish faculty members than there are Jewish students in the entire college. 

I used to think there was something wrong with our academic calendar. Now I don't think about it, which means I don't feel guilty about it.  My reasoning goes like this:  Schools, post offices, banks and such are shut tight for Christian holidays like Easter and Christmas.  There are plenty of non-Christians in the United States, and I've never heard any of them object to having the day off on those holidays.

(Interestingly, in France--where laicite was declared in 1905 and politicians never invoke God or faith in their speeches--15 August, the Feast of the Assumption, is still a national holiday.  Go figure.)

Anyway, having a day off was a good excuse for a bike ride--especially when said day off is bright, clear and crisp.  In fact, it felt almost autumnal.  What better destination for a ride on such a day than New England?  Some would argue that Fairfield County doesn't really count as New England, straddled as it is by Westchester County, but why quibble.  Perhaps if I'd had more time I'd ride further into New England.

Arielle is itching for such an adventure.  Maybe one day soon.

Go Thou And Do Likewise

One of a child's first milestones is when he or she can walk without help.  For many (and, I assume, for everyone reading this blog), a subsequent milestone is riding a bicycle without anyone or anything to aid with balance.

For even the most agile of kids, learning to ride a bike involves a fall or two, and some bumps and bruises.  Kids recover from such things quickly; indeed, most forget the pain of those experiences.

When you get to a certain age, shall we say, wounds don't heal as quickly as they did when you were young.  (That is one reason why I gave up mountain biking in my mid-40s.)  The good news is that your sense of balance is almost certainly better than it was when you were a toddler, and your muscles and reflexes are conditioned in ways they weren't when you were a babe.

Still, it's hard for me to imagine what it's like to learn how to ride a bike at age 53.  It's especially difficult for me to envision a novitiate of that age learning to ride in the sorts of clothing "proper" ladies were expected to wear in public in 1892, not to mention on the kinds of bikes that were ridden at that time.

However, there is one woman who managed to do just what I've described.  She says that it took her three months of practicing fifteen minutes a day, and during that time, she took only one fall.

If you think that the woman I'm describing had a very determined will, you'd be right.  Those of you who've done a bit of reading in women's history--or about one of the most infamous periods of American history--know who she is:  Frances Willard.

To say she's one of the most interesting and enigmatic figures in history would be an understatement.  She's sometimes credited as a founder of feminism--at least in its earliest iteration--in this country. In a sense, that's true:  She believed that it was not only a woman's right, but also her destiny, to have equal citizenship with her husband.

Notice that I wrote "her husband" and not "a man."  You see, she believed that a woman's duty was still mainly domestic and that her work should be focused on the education of her children and the emotional and spiritual support of her husband. 

Because she believed that women had to "temper" their men, at the same time she was crusading for women's suffrage and other rights, she was a leader in a movement that would lead to the greatest failure in American law and social policy (aside, perhaps, from the War on Drugs).  That, of course, was the Eighteenth Amendment of the US Constitution, which was repealed by the Twenty-First Amendment thirteen years later.  It's more commonly known as Prohibition, and it was the culminating achievement of the Women's Christian Temperance Union, of which Willard was a leader.

Her almost-schizophrenic ideas about women's rights seems to have been an all-too-logical result of her own experience.  Growing up in rural Wisconsin, she raised livestock, chopped wood, broke horses and did all of the work men did in that environment--until she turned sixteen. 

The notion of Sweet Sixteen in the 1850's was to give a girl who just turned that age her first corset, hoopskirt and high heels.  In other words, she got the privileges of restricted breathing and hobbled walking.  She described the sadness she felt over being forced into the prescribed role for a Proper Young Victorian Lady, but somehow she managed to break off an engagement and never be married. 



One might think that anyone who could choose to live a life independent of the expectations of her place and time, and to help found two of America's most significant social movements (as misguided as one of them was), would have felt at least some degree of confidence about herself and her place in the world.  However, as she says in "Wheel of Fortune", her mother's death exacerbated the strains she was already feeling about her exhausting schedule of researching, writing, traveling, teaching and speaking--not to mention the conflict between her struggle for her own, and women's, independence and her struggle to live, to the degree she could, according to the expectations of her place and time.

It was while facing such a predicament that she realized the  "conquest" of the bicycle by someone like her, "who had so many comrades in the white-ribbon army" would be "influential."


She exhorted those "comrades" and other women: "Go thou and do likewise."

 

You, Too, Can Ride An Air Donkey

A week and a half ago, I gave some examples of oxymorons.  As I mentioned in that post, some people would argue that "carbon fiber Brooks saddle" is one.

How about "Air Donkey"?

No, it's not a no-frills airline.  (Please click the link:  the clip is precious!)  Nor is it a cheaper version of a sneaker teenaged boys of all ages (and genders!) wait hours on line and spend whole paychecks to get.  And it's not a game in which people deemed to unstable for military service or the police department work out their aggressions.

Rather, Air Donkey might be described if you created a bike rental service by crossing Uber with Airbnb.



An bicycle outfitted for Air Donkey

At least, that seems to be the vision of Erdem Ovacik, who recently co-founded the Copenhagen (where else?)-based startup which has just opened a Kickstarter appeal to fund their project. 

Essentially, Air Donkey would involve people renting out their bicycles by the day or week to tourists, commuters or whoever else is looking to get around the city on two wheels.  The firm behind Air Donkey--Donkey Republic--says the system has been tested around Copenhagen and is ready to go.



The Air Donkey starter kit.

Members will purchase a starter kit that includes a special rear-wheel lock that can be released with a phone app (and can go 500 days between charges), stickers to mark the bike and a listing on the company's website, which keeps track of available bikes via the locks. 


Users simply have to find a bike, pay the rental fee and use the app to unlock the bike.  Air Donkey recommends a rental fee of 10 Euros a day; it's estimated that the one-time cost of the starter kit will be 80 Euros.  Thus, it shouldn't take long for a member to recoup his or her outlay.



The Air Donkey lock

It all sounds good. However, being the cynical (!) New Yorker I am, I found a problem: the lock. It only allows the bike to be locked to itself or tethered to an immobile object with the attached cable.  The "leash" on the lock is flimsy, especially for a bike that's supposed to be parked on the street so that would-be renters can easily access it. Crooks who aren't particularly enterprising have broken much thicker and stronger cables, chains and locks. Also, I have to think that if thieves found ways to steal Citibikes from their ports, they wouldn't have much difficulty in stealing an Air Donkey bike without cutting the "leash" or even breaking the lock.

On the other hand, as Ovacik points out, the system is intended for everyday, utilitarian machines--the kind people typically have in their basements and storage rooms--not fancy racing bikes.  The bikes people would rent are more likely to have baskets or child seats than heart rate monitors.  Hence the "Donkey" in the name.

Even so, Air Donkey would make a greater variety of bikes available than any municipal bike-sharing system like Citibike could.  A bike shop could rent out, say, a Dutch-style city bike, a three-speed, a low-level mountain bike and other kinds of machines in the Air Donkey system.  And, many riders could find and return bikes in and to more convenient locations, particularly areas of cities where bike-share ports are difficult or impossible to find. 

Whatever its flaws or drawbacks, I hope that the program succeeds and, as Ovacik plans, it's expanded to other cities in Europe and beyond.  Anything that can get more bikes on, and more cars off, city streets is a good thing!




 

The Messenger Who Didn't Come Back

I'm sure I don't have to tell you what happened fourteen years ago today.

Here in New York, it seems that almost everyone knows someone who was touched by the events of that day.  If we don't know someone who's alive today because he didn't go to work-- or whose mother, father, brother, sister, lover or friend went to work and never came back-- we know someone who's somehow connected to such a person.

Before the Towers fell, they were magnets that pulled in and propelled hundreds of messengers every day.  For over a year, I was one of them.  I, and they, picked up letters, contracts, invoices, receipts, lease agreements, work orders, certifications, resumes and other testaments to the daily fugue of moments lived in anticipation of returning, again, to the sanctum of the familiar.

Most people go to work every day and expect to return home safely.  Among the exceptions are firefighters, police officers and other first responders:  All of them know, or know of, someone who went to work one day and never made it home.  Most lawyers or accountants cannot say that.  Nor, for that matter can most bike messengers:  Even with the crazy drivers hurtling through the maze of city streets, most who pedal through the urban jungle can expect to make it through the day intact.

One of the reasons, I believe, why the events of 11 September 2001 left so many people in various states of shock and grief is that it was one of those rare occassions on which so many people who expect--or are expected--to be home at the end of the day didn't make it.  In other words, it's one of the few times so many people could truly understand what it's like to live with, and love, a first responder who, on any given day or night, might not come home again.

The families and loved ones of those who didn't make it back have their own mementos and monuments: photos and the like.  And there are also those tactile but mute testimonies to those whose fates we may never know--like the messenger who was riding this bike when making a delivery to Cantor Fitzgerald or some other organization in the World Trade Center:

Photo by Anthony Catalano

This bike was still parked by St. Paul's Chapel a month after the Towers fell.  The rear of it faces Church Street, directly across from the east side of the World Trade Center site.   It seems that family and friends turned it into an impromptu memorial for the messenger, who was never seen or heard from after parking it. 

A Bronx Bike Dealer

This is a Bronx bicycle dealer:

Believe it or not, this photo came up when I typed "bicycle Bronx" in Google.  I know the Bronx fairly well--though, I admit, not as well as I know Brooklyn, Manhattan or Queens--and could not recall seeing anything that looks like the shop, or its locale, in the only New York City borough that's part of the mainland United States.

But, really, they are a Bronx bicycle dealer. Granted, that photo is from 1948, but the shop in question--L.J. Stronnell Cycles--is still in business, in the same location in Buckinghamshire.

Buckinghamshire doesn't sound like a neighborhood in the Bronx, does it?  Well, it shouldn't:  I don't think there's any place in the Bronx with "shire" at the end of its name. 

Those of you in the UK know that it's where, for ages, rich Londoners have spent idyllic holidays.  And not without reason:  Much of it is quite lovely, with its rolling hills and rivers.  But it's becoming more developed, as more and more of said Londoners are moving there and commuting into the city. 

OK, so what does all of this have to do with the Bronx?, you ask.  Well, it turns out that Stronnell sells Bronx bicycles.  No, they're not airlifted from the Grand Concourse or Fordham Road.  Bronx Cycles, believe it or not, is a line of bicycles available in the UK but not in the US (at least, not to my knowledge).

It's interesting that with all of the cachet the Brooklyn brand, if you will, has gained all over the world, a popular line of bicycles in England would be named for New York's most maligned borough.

I guess whoever came up with the name was trying to evoke images of toughness.  Or, perhaps, that person (or those people) actually spent time in the Bronx and realized that it has a number of interesting places besides the Zoo, Botanical Gardens and Yankee Stadium--and some good cycling and fine people. 

Perhaps they know what I have been telling people:  One day, anything related to the Bronx will be just as hip and fashionable as anything connected to Brooklyn is today. I can't say exactly when it will happen, but the day is certainly coming.  When it does, will hipsters be wheeling their fixies to craft-beer cafes on Bruckner Boulevard--while English cycle-tourists roll across the countryside on Bronx bicycles?

This Bike Share Program Could Come Up Roses

Portland, Oregon is often called the most "bike-friendly" city in the US.  I have never been there, but from what I've read and heard, it probably deserves that designation.

Ironically, it doesn't have a bike share program.  That may soon change.  Today, Mayor Charlie Hales and Commissioners Nick Fish (great name, huh?) and Steve Novick have announced a proposal that could make 600 bikes available for public use.

Sometimes "coming to the party" later can have its advantages.  Bike share programs in New York, Paris and other cities had a "learning curve" that Portland won't have:  They had to work out technical problems and find ways to combat problems such as the theft of the programs' bikes.  The folks in Portland will be able to draw upon what their peers in the Big Apple, the City of Light and other places have learned from their experiences with their bike share programs.

One of those problems is what deters folks like me from using Citibike, Velib or other similar programs:  What to do if there's no bike port in sight.  In Paris, I noticed, it probably wouldn't have been much of a problem, as the ports seemed to be everywhere in the city and in points beyond. (Still, I prefer to have a bike for which I don't have to think about such things.  I'd rent again from Paris Bike Tour or bring my own bike.)  However, here in New York, the ports were found, until recently, only in lower Manhattan and in the Brooklyn neighborhoods closest to Manhattan (e.g., Williamsburg).  So, if I were to ride, say, from one of those places to my apartment, or to work, I would almost certainly exceed the time limit.  Taking longer recreational rides would almost certainly be out of the question, let alone using a Citibike to go to museums, galleries and such.

In Portland, I imagine the problem I described would be even more acute, as it's more of a sprawling city than New York or Paris, or others--like Boston and Montreal--that have bike share programs.

Cyclists departing Boston's City Hall plaza to help launch Hubway--the city's bike share program in July 2011.

According to the Portland Bureau of Transportation, there are 3000 bike racks in the City of Roses.  According to John Brady, the PBT's Director of Communications, the bikes in the program would include a locking technology that work on any of those racks--in effect turning them into docking stations. 

That, I think, could go a long way toward turning a bike share program in Portland--or in many other cities--into a truly viable part of the transportation system.  A city that doesn't have many bike racks could probably install them for a good deal less money than special bike ports.  Also, there probably would be less objection to regular bike racks than to the ports, which take up a lot more room.  Their smaller size and relative ease of installation would also make them easier to build in, or next to, train and bus stations or municipal parking lots.

 

24-Karat Stupidity

A few months ago, I wrote a post in which I related something a police commander told me once:  "Lucky for us that most criminals are stupid."

Citibike--the bike-share program in my hometown, New York City, is fortunate that at least one thief was foolish.

Yesterday, when I was on my way to meet a friend for lunch, I saw a bike propped against garbage cans in front of a row house.

I took a photo of it which I, unfortunately, deleted accidentally.  However, the bike looked very much like the one in this image:

The perp took a Citibike and sprayed it with gold paint.  Said crook covered the serial number and anything with the Citibike logo  However, he (as a former male, I am assuming--not unreasonably, I believe--the thief is male) did not spray the front of the bike.  Thus, the head tube and fork showed the familiar Citibike blue:  a shade not found on very many other bikes.

Also. as you can see from this photo, the frame's distinctive shape, as well as the integrated front baskets and fenders, make Citibikes difficult to camouflage, even with a heavy spraying of paint.

As if the ham-fisted paint job wasn't vain enough as an attempt to hide the bike, the voleur chose one of the worst possible colors for the job:  metallic gold.  In the first photo, I spray-brushed the bike with the color, of the ones available on my app, that came closest to what I saw on that bike.  The hue is about right, but the thief used a brighter, more metallic, version of it.

I thought about calling Citibike when one of their vans pulled up.  I'm guessing that someone saw the bike before I did and called.  I wonder whether that person was chuckling, as I was, about the thief's color choice and lack of painting skills.