Citizens and Business Owners

A motorist once accused me and other cyclists of using "for free" the things he and other non-cyclists pay for.  I pointed out that he pays only one tax that I don't pay:  for gasoline.  Roads and other infrastructure are not, as he and others believe, wholly funded by that levy on fuel.  In fact, in most US states--including New York--most of the money for roads comes from general taxes, whether at the local, state or federal level.

In essence, I was telling that driver that I am as much of a citizen as he is, and that cyclists pay their share as much as anybody does.  If anything, we are taxed more heavily because motorists can often deduct the expenses of owning and operating their vehicles.

Now, if cyclists are citizens, just as motorists are, what does that make bicycle shop owners?

Business owners.  Mostly, small business owners.

That is the point made by several bike emporium proprietors in a letter to Washington, DC Mayor Muriel Bowser.  In it, they point out that their interest in Vision Zero--which, they believe, Bowser's administration has been slow to implement--is for the benefit not only of their customers, but also the community as a whole.  They say a few things about themselves that, really, any conscientious small business owner could say:

Bikeshops are active in their communities. Although we compete for the same customers, we share the same goal: put more people on bikes. More people on bikes helps all of us as business owners and the city where our shops are located.

We provide emergency repairs and some of us provide free tool use to get our customers and neighbors moving again.

We donate to local charities.

We create jobs and train young people that have just started working.

We create positive activity in retail corridors.

We create sales tax revenue for the District.

In other words, they're saying that they are serving, not only cyclists, but the Washington DC community as a whole.  That also reinforces the argument I made with the motorist I mentioned at the beginning of this post:  Cyclists are part of the community, too:  We come from "every Ward and all walks of life," in the words of the letter.  We hold the same kinds of jobs, have the same kinds of families, live in the same kinds of places and have all of the same needs as other members of the community.  One of those needs is safety, and the one major difference between us and motorists, or other citizens is--as the writers of the letter point out--we are more vulnerable on the roads.

Oh, and we are customers, not only of bike shops, but the other businesses in their vicinity:  greenmarkets, book sellers, hardware stores, haircutters and beauticians, clothing boutiques, coffee shops, supermarkets and eateries of any and all kinds.  If I owned any of those businesses, I would want my customers to remain safe--and alive. 

What's Stopping Them From Biking To Work?

It's rained nonstop, sometimes torrentially, since early Sunday morning. And it's been unseasonably cold.  My friend Millie remarked, "The weather is always nasty on Mother's Day but nice on Father's Day."

I mused that the weather might be a metaphor for a mother's life and a father's life, or a woman's and a man's.  Or, perhaps, it means that God really is a man--and one who hates women, at that.

She, who's enough of a Catholic to believe that if she lives right, she'll join her husband John in Heaven, laughed.

About the weather: That it comes during Bike to Week work seems like a conspiracy.  I used to know someone who believed that the CIA controlled the weather.  I could believe that, at least for the past few days, the clouds and precipitation have been regulated by someone who hates cyclists.

Now, this weather might deter someone who was thinking about riding his or her bike to work or school for the first time.  It doesn't seem to have driven most of the regular bike commuters to the subway or buses.  And, yes, I rode to work, but I haven't done a "fun" ride since Saturday.

While the rain might not be a disincentive for die-hard veteran bike commuters, this could be

You have to admit, though, that there is something ironic about a Department of Transportation vehicle in the approach to the Queensborough Bridge bike lane:

Thank you, Coleman Barton, for the image--and tweet.

He Survived The Un-Survivable

Once, the chair of a department in which I taught asked for lesson plans, assignments and other materials "in case you get hit by a truck."  My father implored me to write a will for the same contingency.

"Getting hit by a truck" has long been a metaphor for spontaneous, sudden, instantaneous death.  And one's demise usually is the result of such an encounter with a multi-ton, many-wheeled vehicle, especially if there's nothing between the person who is struck and the bumper of the truck but a jacket--or the rear wheel of a bicycle.

Donald Graham of Omaha is an exception.

He was riding his bicycle on the shoulder of Highway 75 North when he veered into the traffic lane--and the path of a truck.

According to Police Captain Wayne Hudson, Heyl Trucking driver Danile Forno did everything he could to avoid hitting Graham.  Forno said he saw another vehicle move to another lane to avoid hitting Graham.

Hudson said that Forno will not be charged but Graham, who suffered a broken leg and brain bleed, might be ticketed.  Because he was riding home from the "Forgot Store" bar,  Hudson believes that alcohol "may have played a role" in the crash.

Even with his current woes, I imagine Donald Graham is one of those rare people who survived getting hit by a truck.  I have to wonder how, or whether, he wants to remember--and, given his alcohol consumption, how much he will remember.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day!

This day is not only a time to honor the woman who gave birth to, raised--and did so much else for--me, but also the other women who have been our inspirations, guides, role models, friends, mentors and companions.

In other words, this is for the women who rock.  And roll!

I've never had children.  But Marlee seems to think I'm her mama.

She Lost Her Parking Space

When people ask you why you ride to work or school, you might say that it saves you money, gives you exercise or simply brings you to your office, shop or classroom in a better mood than you would have been if you'd had to fight traffic or the crowds in the train or bus station.

But, do you remember what got you pedaling to work in the first place?  Was there some specific event that caused you to dust off that bike you hadn't ridden in years and use it as your commuter?

Here in New York, some long-time bicycle commuters got their start during transit workers' strikes.  Here, and in other places, there are people who rode to class or work when they were poor students or low-wage employees and never stopped even after their economic circumstances changed.  Still others simply were trying to regain health and stamina they'd lost--or to gain such qualities after not having them in the first place.

For Amy Graff in San Francisco, the impetus was losing her parking spot at her job.  So, a month ago, she pumped up the tires on her 22-year-old Specialized Stumpjumper and started navigating the city's narrow streets and steep climbs.  She recounts her experiences in a SFGate article, "What I Learned After Riding My Bike For Three Weeks."

Some of the things she learned aren't surprising:  San Francisco is hilly, but biking is often the fastest way to get around the city. That second point could also be made about riding in New York, along with "getting doored is a real thing," "drivers are clueless about cyclists" and "people wear suits, even skirts, while biking."  

But my favorite "lesson" is this:  "the streets are cleaner than the sidewalks."  That's also something I could say about New York:  Even though we have a "pooper scooper" law; I've dodged (and stepped in) more doggie doo, vomit and other vileness left by blameless animals and clueless (or manner-less) drinkers. Let me tell you, those things are really difficult to clean out of your tire treads, which you certainly want to do if you want to bring a bike into a New York or San Francisco apartment!

West Fargo Bicycle Medics

Police departments all over the world have started bicycle patrols for very practical reasons.  For one, tight spaces, crowds or other conditions can make it difficult to reach a person needing help or some other emergency.  Also, not being encased in glass and steel, and not having a motor droning in front of them, makes it easier to see or foresee situations that warrant a response.

Those are also the reasons why, last week, the fire department of West Fargo (North Dakota) unveiled four new bicycles to be used by two fully-equipped teams of medics.  Those teams will work with ambulance staff who will assist if someone needs more specialized care or transportation  to a hospital.  

The creation of medical bicycle units was motivated, in part, by the city's growing population and, specifically, the increasing popularity of downtown events that draw large crowds.  Because such events are usually held during the summer, people can be overcome by heat or dehydration.  Also, the crowds or blocked-off streets can keep other kinds of vehicles from passing into other parts of town where there might be an emergency.

West Fargo FD Captain Jason Carriveau with one of the new medic bikes.

Each team consists of two medics who are trained, on-call firefighters.  They ride custom Trek mountain bikes.  One member of the team carries a trauma kit and defibrillator machine, while the other team member has a bag of supplies needed for common medical emergencies.  Every one of the medics has undergone 40 hours of specialized training for this new undertaking.  

Fire Chief Dan Fuller said the medics may travel to nearby areas such as Moorhead and Fargo to work in larger events such as the Fargo Marathon. 

A "Mean Girls Clique"?

I wandered lonely as a cloud

Even if he'd never written another line--or if everything else he wrote had "moon" and "June" rhymes--William Wordsworth would be rightly celebrated as one of the great English poets.  Besides, with an name like that, he really couldn't be anything but a writer of some sort!

Anyway, we all know that clouds don't get lonely. (Or do they? ;-))  But nobody ever went to Wordsworth for a police report because he had what we call "poetic license."

I'm going to borrow it for a moment.  Yesterday, I took a ride to Connecticut.  At the Greenwich Common memorial, I saw this:

Does that vermillion-ish red flower feel lonely next to that sea of pink?  She's on the outside, after all!

And if she feels lonely, does that mean those pink tulips are the "mean girls clique"?

They Made US Cycling History

In less than a week, we've lost three people who, in different ways, helped to shape cycling culture in the US.

Perhaps the one closest to my, and many people's, hearts is Marty Epstein.  If you are not from the New York-New Jersey area, or don't ride in randonees, brevets or gran fondos, you might not have heard of him.  He did, however, start one of the first gran fondo rides here in the eastern US.  It turned Morristown, New Jersey into a cycling mecca.

The town also just happens to be the locale for his shop, Marty's Reliable Cycle, where you could be just as comfortable buying a steel bike of any kind as you could if you were in the market for a Trek Madone or S-Works--or a basic commuter bike, or something for your kid.  He once said his goal was to "change the world through bicycles."  At least he understood that such change would involve all types of bicycles and riders, not just one subculture or market subset.

He went to the Gran Fondo in the sky last Thursday, at age 69, less than a year after being diagnosed with prostate cancer.





How many people who haven't won the Tour de France get a funeral procession like that?

On Sunday, someone who, perhaps, helped to plant the seeds of cycling culture in America passed at age 93.  Unless you are a Schwinn historian or spend a lot of time looking at patent applications, you probably haven't heard of Frank Brilando.  He raced in the 1948 and 1952 Olympics, but his long tenure as a Schwinn engineer earned him his place in cycling history.  He, along with Al Fritz, created the Sting-Ray, Varsity and Continental bicycles during the 1960s.

You may think the Sting-Ray is an abomination only a 12-year-old boy could love, and you may turn up your nose at the Varsity and Continental.  Before Brilando and Fritz developed them, however, few Americans had ridden a bicycle with a derailleur.  Those Schwinns helped to popularize the multi-gear mechanisms and, arguably, paved the way for the Bike Boom of the '70s.  If nothing else, the Varsity and Continental probably got American adults to ride bikes for the first time in decades.

Frank Brilando

Brilando and Fritz also worked on the Airdyne full-body fan-resistance exercise bike.  Once, in a conference room in Taiwan, Schwinn's brain trust were trying to figure out the proper crossover pattern (the relationship between the rider's arm position on the handles and foot position on the pedals) when Brilando realized the best pattern would be reflected in the arm and leg coordination of a baby crawling on the floor.  "So Frank gets down on the floor and starts crawling like a baby," Fritz, who died in 2013, recalled.

Over the same weekend, Roland Della Santa, died at his Reno home, aged 72.  He began building bicycle frames in 1970.  One of his creations won the "best road frame" award at the 2009 North American Handbuilt Bicycle Show.  Like Brilando, Della Santa also raced, and sometimes the frames people ordered were delayed because he was training so much.  

Roland Della Santa with his award-winning frame at the 2009 NAHBS.

But a few frames of his in particular changed the course (pun intended) of American cycling.  He took a certain 16-year-old into his home and admonished the young man for wearing a yellow jersey to his first race.  "I didn't know you're only supposed to do that if you win the Tour de France," that rider recalls.  Della Santa taught the young man about racing, and the European scene in particular.   In fact, he inspired the youthful rider to plan a career in Europe.

Della Santa, of course, built frames for that young rider and became his first sponsor.  When that rider achieved fame and fortune, Della Santa built the first stock steel frames sold under that cyclist's name.

Here's a hint to that rider's identity:  He is the only rider from his country whose Tour de France victories haven't been vacated due to doping.

Yes, I am talking about Greg LeMond. You might say that Della Santa helped him to become what he became. 

Pedals Worthy Of His Bike: He's Making Them

I first became serious about cycling as a teenager in the mid-1970s.  It seemed that every minute, I was learning about some brand of bicycle that wasn't Schwinn, Raleigh or Peugeot, and components--yes, I learned that most bicycles are made from components manufactured by other companies!  So, of course, I encountered all of the traditional European names like Weinmann, Mafac, Huret, Simplex--and, of course, Campagnolo.  Hey, Campy even made parts for high-performance race cars and NASA space vehicles!

Not long after, I would find out about Japanese makers of high-quality equipment like Sugino, Nitto and SunTour, whose derailleurs became my "go-to".  Nitto, Sugino and Campagnolo, of course, survive:  All except one of my Mercians is equipped with Nitto bars and/or stems, and Sugino cranksets.  Negrosa, my black 1973 Mercian Olympic, sports the same-year Campagnolo Nuovo Record gruppo (and Cinelli bars and stem) that came with it.

Sadly, the SunTour name lives only in mostly low-end suspension forks under the SR-SunTour brand.  Weinmann is a marque for mostly heavy and low-end rims made in China or Taiwan, and Mafac, Huret and other classic names are gone altogether.

Another name I encountered in my early cycling days is Chater-Lea.   By the time I learned about them, four decades ago, they were on the brink of extinction.  They would file for bankruptcy in 1987, and seemed to live on only in the memories of those of us old enough (in my case, just barely) to know about classic British bike parts.

Now, I have only seen a few Chater-Lea parts:  sturdy bottom brackets for those pencil-thin cottered cranks that found their way onto beautiful old English (and other) frames before cotterless chainsets (yes, that's what the English call them) took over the peloton and market--and, some beautifully-made pedals.  Their "rattrap" design was something like Lyotard's, but better, in materials, workmanship and aesthetics.

It seems, though, that Chater-Lea suffered the fate of Lyotard and other old-line bicycle component makers in the 1980s:  designs and market preferences changed, but companies like C-L and Lyotard didn't.  With the advent of mid-priced cotterless cranks and clipless pedals, the market for high-quality cottered bottom brackets and traditional cage or platform pedals all but disappeared.  In the meantime, companies that changed their designs and product lines, as often as not, shifted their production to low-wage countries. That is how nearly all of the British bicycle component (and a good part of the country's bicycle) industry, along with many of its counterparts in France and the rest of Europe, disappeared in the 1980s. 

Well, it seems that us old folks (OK! OK!) aren't the only ones who remember Chater-Lea.  Andy Richman, a Brit who lived and worked in Washington, DC, for a number of years, has returned to his native country to  resurrect the Chater-Lea name and oversee the design, manufacture and launch of its first product in more than three decades--and its first new product in more than half a century.  

Appropriately enough, it's a pedal.  But it's not any old crank appendage.  Even someone who's not a cycle enthusiast can see that it's made with better materials and more care--and purely and simply looks better--than your typical "rat trap", with all due respect to MKS (whose pedals I use).  The new Chater-Lea "Grand Tour" pedal is made from marine grade 316 and hardened 17-4PH stainless steel studded with polished brass rivets.  

Oh, and it's made in the UK--in Bristol, to be exact.  "This stuff needs to be made in the UK," says Richman.  It's "high-end, beautiful, artisanal," he explains.  "If jobs are going to come back to the UK, it's got to be for making this kind of stuff."

The new Chater-Lea Grand Tour pedal

Chater-Lea made "this kind of stuff" that was the class (along with BSA) of the bicycle component world.  Begun in 1890, it would branch out into motorcycle and car parts, and complete motorcycles and cars.  During World War II, it made parts for the Mosquito Fighter Bomber.  After the war, Chater-Lea returned to its bicycle roots and enjoyed prosperity during the 1950s but started to falter, along with many other companies in the British cycle industry, during the 1960s.  (Little did we know that all of those Raleigh and Dawes bikes we saw during the 1970s Bike Book were the shadows of companies that would "give up the ghost" a decade or two later!)  

Richman is himself a bike enthusiast who knew of the brand before his quest to revive it.  What motivated him, though, was a shopping trip in Brighton that took him to Condor, one of the premier bicycle shops in Britain.  There, he eyed a 1948 Condor frame and persuaded the shop's owner to sell it to him.  As Richman left the store, the owner remarked, "You do know there's really only one set of components worthy of going on this bike?  Chater-Lea."

Someone, I forget who, once said, "If I want to read a good book, I write one."  It seems that Richman knew that if he couldn't find "worthy" components, he'd have to make them.  And he's begun, with his Grand Tour pedal.

A Lock--And A Blockchain?

Until a few days ago, I thought a blockchain had something to do with construction machinery or power tools.  Turns out, it's very high tech. In fact, it is a core component of the Bitcoin.

As I understand it, the "block" is a growing list of digital records linked by using cryptography.  Each block contains a cryptographic hash of the previous block, a timestamp and transaction data.  By its design, the cryptographic hash is a one-way function, meaning that it is impossible to invert, i.e., alter.  

Each of the blocks is linked using cryptography.  The blocks can originate from any number of sources and can be transmitted to others.  As an example, a block can be sent from the owner of an object to the police and an insurance company.

You can see where this is going, right?

IBM is working on a system that will allow a bike's owner to register his or her machine via an app.  That information would also be stored on a "smart" lock that would provide the location of the bike when it's parked--and allow transmission of that data to the concerned parties (owner, police and insurer) if the bike is stolen.

Currently, reporting a stolen bike is a cumbersome process in the US and Europe, as Louis de Bruin explains.  "Many interactions are required to exchange information that all these parties do not have at hand," said the IBM Blockchain Lead for Europe.  The blockchain "simplifies the process," he said, because "all information about the stolen bicycle and owner are recorded on the blockchain and available for all parties to access at the right moment."

That IBM is trying this system first in the Netherlands, via IBM Benelux, is not surprising.  After all, there are more bicycles than people in the low-lying nation, and theft is a problem, particularly in Amsterdam.  But IBM sees the potential, not only for individual bike owners, but for owners of rental or bike-share fleets.  In some cities, such as Rome, bike-share programs were halted because of theft and vandalism.

Of course, such a system could also be used to aid in recovering other stolen items, and in detecting counterfeit items.  But it's fascinating to see that, if such a system works, cyclists might be its early adopters.