The Journey--And Destination--Of My Rides

When I first became a dedicated cyclist--during the '70's Bike Boom--a lot of new adult cyclists were folks who were, had been or did not want to stop being hippies.  In retrospect, it makes perfect sense:  cyclists of the previous generation, who kept the flame lit during the Dark Ages following World War II, were countercultural in their own way.  

During the '50's, much of the American landscape and culture were being carved up to better accommodate the automobile.  Developing an economy and society ever-more dependent on the internal combustion engine was seen as a sign of progress, much as many immigrants and their children saw acquiring an automobile as a sign of economic progress away from bicycling, walking or taking public transportation to work out of necessity.

Continuing to ride a bike--let alone taking up cycling as an adult--was almost a revolutionary act under such conditions.  That, I believe, is the reason why the hippies who rode bikes in the days and years after Woodstock are logical descendants of those who rode in the Dark Ages.    Ironically, it is also the reason, I think, why the new cyclists of the Bike Boom actually had very little truck with those who kept the fire burning during the decade or two before them:  by the '70's, adults on bikes who could afford to travel by other means were becoming a more common sight.  So, riding a bike--especially for a hippie--wasn't such an act of rebellion anymore. If anything, it was one of the more socially acceptable things a guy with long hair and wearing torn jeans could do.

Still, for many, riding a bike--especially taking bike tours or camping trips--was seen as a way of "getting away" or simply not joining the ranks of those who made payments on cars and houses.  On the other hand, those earlier cyclists, who were bucking cultural and economic trends to an even greater degree than Bike Boom riders were, didn't seem to ride out of any sense of rebellion.  Most of them had regular jobs or owned businesses; most were also not adverse to the acquisition of property and wealth.

I have long valued older, more experienced cyclists for their wisdom as well as their insights, and even for their sense of humor.  And, let's face it, they show us that we (most of us, anyway) have to get jobs or negotiate the capitalist system in some way or another, and then find time and ways to ride our bikes in the midst of the chaos.  But I realize, as I get older, that it's really the hippie in me that keeps me cycling:  I ride in order to be free (at least for as long as possible) and that I need my freedom in order to ride.  

So, if you've gotten this far, you might be wondering what prompted this rumination.  Well, I stumbled across a blog by someone who "some would describe... as the old hippy who doesn't know the war is over".    Fred Bailey, the "old hippy" in question, lives aboard the Seafire, a boat he is refitting for voyages far and wide.

Actually, I didn't stumble across the blog itself.  Rather, I found, by chance, a photograph included in Fred's latest post.  In that post, he talks about his annual "pilgrimage" to the Fisher Poet's Gathering in Astoria(!), Oregon.   It sounds like a wonderful event:  Maybe the next gathering will give me reason to visit an Astoria that, I am sure, is different from the one in which I live.  

He took the photograph--of "the most westerly bike rack in the USA"--during that trip:



Photo by Fred Bailey, from Seafireblog.

I don't think anyone could create a better visualization of my cycling spirit, if you will.  The colors, the sights and the overall mood are my destination, whatever my cycling journey happens to be.

One Way Of Entering The Bronx

As I mentioned in a previous post, a bicycle/pedestrian connection between Randall's Island and the Bronx has opened.  It's actually very good:  It's well-constructed and makes a smooth transition to the pathways on the island.  Also, it's wide and closed off to motorized traffic, though there is a rail crossing--albeit one that doesn't seem to be used very often.  My only real complaint about it is that it's that most people would have a difficult time finding it from the Bronx side.

Still, I sometimes choose to ride up the walkway on the Bronx spur of the RFK Memorial/Triborough Bridge.  One reason is that it has a fairly steep incline, which adds a small challenge to my daily commute.  Also, while the new connector makes for an easy entrance into the Bronx, the old RFK walkway makes the entrance, shall we say, a bit more grand

and perhaps a bit more dramatic, even a bit Gothic, on an overcast day.   It's not exactly noir--more like gris, perhaps.  Plus,  you have to admit, there's something imposing about seeing a cross--or something that looks like a cross, anyway--as you are riding up to an arch.

Don't get me wrong:  I'm enjoying my new job, and the commute to it.  Truth be told, the part of the Bronx where I now work is more interesting than the part of Queens where I had been working.  And, oddly enough, even though I don't see a lot of people in the neighborhood riding bikes (a few of colleagues in my department and elsewhere in the college ride in), somehow I don't feel as conspicuous as I did at my old job, where practically nobody rode.  And I couldn't make the kind of entrance I make when I pedal up that ramp into the Bronx!

The Racer's Edge: Dick Power

I am told very good tacos are made in this place:

I plan to return one day and find out.  

Recently I learned about something else that was made in this building, next door:

At first glance, it looks like just another storefront building on a block that gentrification hasn't yet found.   Its owners told me that sofas were once made within its walls.  However, they were unaware that something meant for a decidedly un-sedentary pursuit was also made inside its confines:

Dick Power track bike, 1963

About ten kilometers from my apartment is the hipster haven of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where there seems to be a bike boutique (next to a bar that serves only craft beers, or course!) on every block.  I can recall a time when the area more closely resembled the environs of the taco restaurant and its neighbor:  a place full of blue-collar residents and immigrants, where few, if any, adults ride bicycles. 

 The neighborhood around Santa Fe Taco---Sunnyside, Queens--might well be on its way to becoming like Williamsburg.  Only four kilometers, in another direction, from my apartment, it was long known, along with neighboring Woodside, for the Irish bars and German saloons that served the blue-collar immigrants and first-generation Irish- and German-Americans who lived in the area.   (Both neighborhoods still have large Irish populations but also have perhaps the greatest concentration of Filipinos east of California.)  Sunnyside and Woodside did not suffer the devastation other blue-collar neighborhoods (like Williamsburg) endured, but nevertheless have experienced changes that threaten to erase some of their heritage.

A part of that heritage that is unknown to almost everyone who lives in the neighborhood involves the bikes that were made and sold in that unprepossessing building next to a Taco restaurant.  

Dick Power in front of his shop--in the building next to the taco restaurant!--in 1939.

During the "Dark Ages" of cycling--roughly the two decades or so following World War II--there existed in a few American locales, including New York City, a small but tight-knit community of racers and other adult cyclists.  Shops such as Thomas Avenia's in East Harlem and Kopp's in Princeton catered to them.  And there was a small but dedicated group of framebuilders, some of whom also owned and operated retail shops, who catered to those riders.  

Dick Power was one of them.  From his shop and frameworks at 4710 47th Avenue in Sunnyside, he turned out some beautifully-crafted frames that are prized by riders as well as collectors.  Power, who died in 1973, plied his trade and served as a coach and trainer from the 1930s through the 1960s.  However, the loss of his son--executed for his role in a robbery gone wrong that resulted in the death of a police officer--propelled him onto a mission to recruit and mentor young people into cycling.  

Among those he encouraged, and for whom he built bikes, were several female cyclists.  In the 1950s, the world of cycling, including racing, was even more of a male preserve than it is now.  Power's mentorship of those young women was seen as radical in his time.

I must say, though, that it must have been interesting, to say the least, for a young woman to be coached by a man with a name like "Dick Power".  Than again, those times were more innocent, I imagine!  

It's Warm, Even If The Season Has Not Yet Sprung

For three days, it felt like summer, almost.  I rode in shorts and worked in skirts without hosiery.  The classrooms and offices were too warm, and my students wanted to do anything besides listen to my lectures although, of course, they would never tell me that.  If I were any of them, I'd've felt the same way, probably.

The temperature dropped a bit today, though it still felt pretty balmy for this time of year, even with a brisk wind--into which I pedaled out to Rockaway Beach.  The sun played hide-and-seek but the wind was, as we say in the old country, definitely in-your-face.  Not that I'm complaining:  the ride was a decent workout even if it wasn't very long, and I felt invigorated afterward.  

Invigorating turned to bracing on the Cross Bay Memorial Bridge to Rockaway Beach. The temperature seemed to drop about 10C as I crossed the span.  Such a change is typical on a warm late-winter or early-spring day:  Even during a winter as mild as the one we've had, the ocean temperature drops to 3-5C (about 37-40F); the water in Jamaica Bay is probably just as cold.

There are other signs spring hasn't sprung yet, in spite of the warm weather:  The trees and plants are not yet budding, and no shoots are poking through the ground.  There are only the recently-planted grasses on dunes built to forestall further erosion of the kind Superstorm Sandy left in its wake:

That "dune" will probably be no more lush in another month, or two, or three, as Spring forwards into Summer.  But we will see the other signs, not yet visible, of the season that is incubating in the warmer-than-normal weather we've experienced during the past few days.

Next Winter, Perhaps: A Sneeuwketting

It's hard to believe that a month and a half ago, we had one of the biggest snowstorms in the history of this city.  It's also difficult to believe that less than a month ago, on Valentine's Day, we had the coldest temperature we'd experienced in more than two decades.

Why do those things seem incredible now?  Well, for the past two days, we've had afternoon high temperatures around 25C (77F), which broke old records for the past two dates by several degrees.  Today is not quite as warm, but still balmy for this time of year with a daytime high of 20C (68F).  And, aside from the blizzard and the cold snap around Valentine's Day, we've had a very mild (if wet) winter.  I've actually managed to do some riding that doesn't have to do with commuting, and I haven't used my winter gear nearly as much as I normally do.

So, my latest discovery could hardly have come at a less opportune time, though we don't know what next winter will be like.  Perhaps this one will come in handy next winter:




Like so many practical bike-related innovations, this one was created by a Dutch cyclist.  Cesar von Rongen's "Sneeuwketting", or snow chain, is a simple rubber casing with spikes on it.  According to its webpage, it's simple to install over existing tires and its "pop of colour to make your dreary winter day a little brighter". 

It's sunny here.  And I'm about to leave work.  I'm going for a ride--without a snow chain.  Maybe next winter I can use it!

"They Make Bicycles?!"

"They make bicycles?!"

They did, for quite a while--and some very nice ones, at that.  Whether or not they still make bikes, I don't know.  Perhaps they're sold other under names.

Actually, the company  that prompted the question at the beginning of this post probably sold  more bikes in the US under other companies' names than it did under its own.  It's surprising, really, that it wasn't more successful in the US market for a couple of reasons. One is that it made very nice bikes that were reasonably priced, at least until the US dollar devalued.  Another is that it made the types of bikes that were selling like crazy in the US when other companies made them, and the manufacturer I have in mind usually made them better!  Also, this company's name is one that everybody knew:  In fact, most people had (and probably have) at least one product it makes.  And it has an excellent reputation for just about everything it's ever made.

Why, this company even sponsored a team in the Tour de France! 

Officially, this company stopped selling its bicycles in the US after 1989, although it seems to have continued selling them in other countries for some time after that.  It ceased its US operations because, like other bicycle manufacturers from its home country, it had trouble competing when the US dollar devalued against that country's currency.  Unlike some other Japanese bike makers, it seems not to have shifted its manufacturing to a lower-wage country like Taiwan or, later, China or Singapore. 


OK...So now you might realize that I'm talking about a Japanese bicycle manufacturer.  You know it's not Fuji because they're still in the US market.  And you know it's not Miyata because they're not known for other products (although they were  a rifle manufacturer before they started making bicycles).  Ditto for Nishiki and Centurion. 

All right.  I'll give you one more clue.  This company still sells bicycle components, mainly tires, under two brand names that almost every cyclist knows.  And their other products were mainly in an area in which the Japanese first gained a reputation for quality.

That area is electrical goods and electronics.  Now the light bulb is starting to flash in your head! (Pun intended.)  And the names under which those tires and other parts are sold are "Panaracer" and "National".

In fact, this company's tires have been sold under other names--including those of a few bike manufacturers as well as Avocet.  And some are sold under the Specialized brand--as were some of this company's bikes.

By now, you might have figured out that the company in question is Panasonic. In addition to most of the Japanese-made Specialized bikes of the late '70's and '80's, Panasonic also made bicycles for Schwinn (LeTour, Voyageur and other models) and other bicycle companies.   In fact, it made some of the nicest off-the-shelf touring bikes as well as racing bikes that could compete with some of the best from Europe.

Panasonic PT-3500 Touring.  Great bike, but the paint and graphics practically scream "'80's"!

But it seems that in this country, people could see Panasonic only as the company that made their televisions or microwave ovens.  It's a shame, really, because its bikes offered good performance and value.  In addition to the touring bikes I've mentioned, Panasonic made bikes like the DX-2000, which could be best described as a better version of the "club racer" bike made by British and French manufacturers until the 1970s. 

When it was first introduced in the late 1970s, the DX-2000 had a lugged and brazed frame made from double-butted high-tensile steel tubing.   Later versions had frames made from double-butted Tange tubing (900 or one of the other heavier grades).  All versions came with forged dropouts and had geometries similar to those of more-expensive racing bikes.  Earlier club racers from Europe had similar geometry but were made from thinner-walled versions of lower-grade tubing in an attempt to make a light bike without using, say, Vitus (let alone Reynolds or Columbus) tubing.  The DX-2000 was, therefore, almost as light as those European bikes even though it came with clincher tires (as opposed to the tubulars on its European counterparts).  And, needless to say, the Shimano or SunTour derailleurs on the DX-2000  shifted better than the Simplex, Huret or low-end Campagnolo units typically found on other club racers.

1980 Panasonic DX-2000, with fenders added.

What that meant was that someone who wanted to ride fast could buy a DX-2000 for about $225 in the late '70's or a hundred dollars more during the '80's and get an idea of what a racing bike feels like.  Then, if that person wanted to take up racing, he or she could buy a set of tubulars before committing to a more expensive bike.  Some people bought DX-2000s and never looked back, rolling them out on club rides even as their riding buddies went for things "bigger and better". 

Also, the DX-2000 may well have been the only production bicycle ever offered in the US in a 71cm frame (seat tube) size!   To put that in perspective:  I am 5"10" (177 cm) tall with a 32" (81cm) inseam and my Mercians are 55.5cm. 

Phil Anderson racing with the Panasonic team, 1985

From the mid-1980s until the early 1990's, Panasonic co-sponsored racing teams in the Netherlands.   Riders who sported the company's insignia on their jerseys achieved a number of notable victories, including stage wins in the Tour de France and Giro d'Italia as well as victories in a number of "classics" and regional races.  Probably the most successful riders to race for Panasonic-sponsored teams were Phil Anderson, who finished fifth in the 1982 and 1985 Tours de France (and was the first non-European to wear the maillot jaune) and Erik Breukink, who finished second in the 1988 Giro d'Italia. 

Panasonic riders, interestingly, never rode Panasonic bikes. It's been rumored that Panasonic sponsored teams in the hope of becoming as much of a presence in the European bicycle market as it has been in the European (and worldwide) electronics market.  Even though Miyata has been successful there (under the name Koga-Miyata), Panasonic never attained similar status.



1987 Panasonic Team Time Trial

Today the Panasonic name continues to be familiar to millions of Americans who purchase just about anything that runs on electricity, from home appliances to computing equipment.  But they still ask that same question I hear from time to time, "They make bicycles?" 

P.S.  Two of the shops in which I worked sold Panasonic bicycles.  I assembled a number of them; I do not recall any other bike that was as easy to assemble!

The Backwards Brain Bicycle

I can remember when "intuitive" was an adjective used to describe someone who seemed to understand what other people felt--or just things in general--without conscious reasoning.  Perhaps you have a mother, friend, partner, spouse or someone else in your life who "gets" you in that way.  Or, perhaps, you can sense situations before they happen, as police officers who have spent a lot of time on the streets often can.

Somewhere along the way--in the '80's or '90's, I reckon--it became a marketing buzzword for "any idiot can use it."  Like most marketing buzzwords, it is misleading if not downright deceptive.  The "intuitive" product or system might have made perfect sense to whoever designed it, but that doesn't always mean it will make sense to someone who doesn't have a PhD.  (I have an M.F.A.)

To paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald, let me tell you about most product designers (and software developers, and IT people):  They are different from you and me.  I have come to the conclusion that they are more interested in the complexity (or mere complicatedness) or efficiency of the machines or systems they create than in how readily people can use them.  At least, I feel that way every time I try to use a current phone to, um, make or answer a call or a camera to, how can I explain this?, take a picture.

Maybe what they're trying to do is to get rubes like me to "think out of the box".  You know, to forget everything we've ever learned, no matter how empirically-based it may be, and follow the "logic" of whatever they've designed.  Perhaps the inventor of the QWERTY keyboard had that in mind.  I guess I should be thankful to that person, and to anyone who's ever created a system in which I have to enter my students' grades under "HR/Campus Solutions" rather than under anything having to do with students, courses, grades or students' records.

At least the folks who came up with the Backwards Brain Bicycle were joking--I think:






Turn your bars right to steer left.  And vice versa.  Going left to go right, and going right to go left.  Hmm...That sounds like the "reasoning" behind those people who say they would vote for Donald Trump (or any other Republican nominee) if the Democrats don't nominate Bernie Sanders as their presidential candidate.  As for how such logic works in bicycle steering systems--well, all you have to do is look at the video!

In Motion On International Women's Day

Today is International Women's Day. 

As I've mentioned in other posts, early feminists saw the bicycle as a vehicle, if you will, of emancipation.  "Let me tell you what I think of bicycling," Susan B. Anthony intoned.  "I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world."  She explained, "It has given women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance."

She would especially appreciate the images of Women In Motion posted on World Bicycle Relief's site. 

World Bicycle Relief is, in its own words, "mobilizing people through the power of bicycles."  In doing so, according to the organization's website, "We envision a world where distance is no longer a barrier to education, healthcare and economic opportunity."

To that end, WBR manufactures its own bicycles under the "Buffalo" brand in Africa, and has them assembled by mechanics in the locales in which the bicycles are distributed.  WBR trains those mechanics, as well as others who are involved in the production and distribution of those bicycles.  Recently, their wholly owned subsidiary, Buffalo Bicycles Ltd., has begun to sell bikes to non-governmental organizations, corporations and individuals in need of affordable, sustainable transportation.

Universe (yes, that's her name) uses her bicycle to bring the vegetables she grows and the foods she bakes to a market where she sells them.

WBR has work-to-own and study-to-own programs for those who cannot purchase a bicycle outright.  As you might imagine, those programs benefit women and girls particularly because--especially in areas like rural Africa--they have little or no money and limited (or, again, no) access to the networks that would help them get credit to start businesses or other resources needed to get paid employment, go to school or simply to take better care of their families--or themselves.

Kesia is a health-care volunteer who works with victims of HIV, sexually-transmitted diseases and gender-based violence. Because of the long distances she must travel, she used to meet only four clients a day.  Now, with her bicycle, she can meet as many as 75.

That WBR manufactures, assembles and distributes locally--and trains people to do so, as well as mechanics--is also a major benefit to women, who often can't travel very far from their farms, villages or families to obtain an education or employment, let alone a bike.  It also, naturally, makes it easier for women and girls to obtain bicycles, which in turn gives them the mobility that affords them access to a greater range of educational, business and other opportunities.

Georgina, a 68-year-old widow, uses her bicycle to carry milk from her farm to a collection center 12 km away.

No less than Barron's financial magazine has lauded F.K. Day, WBR's founder and president, as one the most effective philanthropists.  While WBR doesn't bill itself as dedicated exclusively, or even primarily, to women and girls, it's hard not to notice the particular impact their programs have on women and girls, especially those in the most difficult circumstances.

I am sure that, were she alive today, Ms. Anthony would point to the organization and its programs as one of the prime examples of what she meant, especially what she said about self-reliance.

Morning Commutes Through The Gates of Hell

I am teaching early morning classes in my new gig.  That means, for now, that I am pedaling to work around dawn.  Someone remarked that I am "bringing the morning to the Bronx", where I am now working.

Should I bring the morning in a pair of panniers?  A bicycle briefcase?  Or some other kind of bike bag? 

While pedaling across the RFK/Triborough Bridge, I saw the morning arrive in another conveyance

through the Gates of Hell--all right, I mean through Hell Gate or under the Hell Gate Bridge.

Perhaps I wasn't bringing morning through the Gates of Hell.  But some of my students probably thought I was bringing them hell this morning through the campus gate!

When You Spoke Of Good Wheels, There Was Just One Name

These days, if you are building a quality wheel, you are likely to use spokes from DT Swiss, Wheelsmith or Sapim.  I have heard arguments and seen a few flame wars (really!) over which brand is better, with partisans of one brand insisting that the others are good only for kebab skewers.


Me, I think they're all high-quality spokes.  All of my current wheels have either DT Swiss or Wheelsmith spokes on them; I don't have Sapims mainly because they're less available, at least here in the US.  Also, I should point out that all of my current wheels have round spokes:  I am not using any bladed or elliptical spokes. 

(I did, for a time, ride a radially-laced front track wheel I built with Wheelsmith bladed spokes.  I had no problems with them.  That said, I didn't ride any rough road surfaces on that wheel.)

One thing I find interesting, from the perspective of four decades as a dedicated cyclist, is that nearly all current high-quality spokes are stainless steel.  During the 1990s, titanium spokes gained some popularity along with bikes and other components made from the same material; today, bladed carbon-fiber or aluminum alloy spokes are found on low-spoke-count boutique wheelsets.  But for the past three decades or so, about 90 percent of quality wheels--and nearly all custom-built wheels--have been laced with stainless spokes from one of the manufacturers I've mentioned.

Back in the day, things were a bit different. (You can say that about just about anything, I guess, except for human nature!)  My first pair of custom-built wheels were composed from Super Champion 58 rims laced to Campagnolo Nuovo Tipo hubs with Robergel Sport spokes.

If you haven't heard of Robergel spokes, which were made in France, you probably don't remember the Tokheim Gear Maker or Durham "Camel" chainrings, either.  But Robergel Sport spokes had much more of a raison d'etre than either of those products.  So, for that matter, did Robergel's "Trois Etoiles" spoke--but more so the "Sport".

You see, the Sport was made in a way that almost no "good" spoke is made today:  It was zinc-plated.  The base material was a high-tensile steel that wasn't stainless.   If you were building a wheel for loaded touring or other rugged use (my first custom wheels took me on my first tour of Europe), you used Robergel Sports.

(The cheapest spokes then, as now, were cadmium-plated or not plated at all.)

Although the Trois Etoiles spokes were plenty strong--custom builders still seek them--and, let's face it, beautiful, the Sport was clearly the stronger spoke.  And, in those days, the Trois Etoiles was probably the only stainless steel spoke that could stand up to the rigors of racing as well as other hard use; those from other makers whose names you've never heard routinely broke. For those reasons, Trois Etoile spokes were used on otherwise all-Italian or even all-Japanese racing bikes.  Very often, a high-end racing or touring bike might have three French components on it:  Robergel spokes, Mavic or Super Champion rims and Christophe toe clips.

The main reason why the Sport and other zinc-plated spokes were used on wheels built for loaded or hard riding, or on bikes that weren't cared-for by team mechanics, is that stainless steel in those days was more brittle, even though it had more tensile strength, than carbon steel with zinc plating.  (A few companies made bicycles with stainless steel frames during the 1970s; their failure rate was high.) Also, if the spokes didn't have rust or tarnish on them before they were plated, they didn't rust during normal usage.  

They did, however, take on a dull finish that didn't even have enough charm to be called "patina".  That, I think, is the main reason why zinc-plated spokes have fallen out of favor:  If you wanted them to look good, you had to clean them, especially if you rode them in the rain.  

A few spoke makers--Robergel was not one of them--offered chrome-plated steel spokes.  They, of course, look nicer than zinc-plated spokes that have been in a couple of monsoons.  But quality chroming is expensive, and too often manufacturers take shortcuts or simply don't know any better.  And, because the cross-section of a spoke is so thin, doing the process properly is even more critical than it is, say, on a frame or a rack.

Chrome plating is actually porous.  Thus, if there isn't a proper under-coat, the steel underneath it is just as vulnerable to the elements than it would be if it were left bare.  Actually, improperly plating something with chrome is actually worse than leaving the underlying metal bare, for it allows rust to begin underneath the surface.  By the time the rust becomes visible, the damage is already done.  In the case of a spoke, it could break even before the rust becomes visible.

(Let me emphasize that I am not against chrome-plating on bicycles as long as it is done properly.  If the frame was made by a constructeur or other high-end builder, the chrome was probably done right.   You can't be as certain with mass manufacturers, particularly those at the lower end of the spectrum.)

There was one other short-lived attempt to keep spokes nice and shiny.  In the 1970s and early 1980s, an Italian maker named Redaelli offered nickel-plated spokes (which were also said to be made specially for Campagnolo hubs).  I don't know how long those spokes lasted in real-life use, for I never knew anyone who used them in real life.  For all I know, they might have been just as good as anything Robergel made.  But nickel does share an issue with chrome:  If the underlying steel was not free of rust, corrosion or dirt when the plating process began, the spokes could rust or corrode from within in much the same way as chrome-plated spokes.  

Whatever the fate of those Redaellis or the chrome-plated spokes I've mentioned, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that someone is still riding my old wheels with Robergel "Sport" zinc-plated spokes.  I don't know of any manufacturer that makes zinc-plated spokes for bicycles anymore; now most people think that if a bike has something that isn't shiny or doesn't have a carbon finish,it must not be any good.  As the saying goes, don't judge a book by its cover--or a spoke by its finish!