Out Of Line In The Lane

After taking a late-day bike ride, eating a dinner and reading, I dozed off, with Marlee curled up on me.  A couple of hours later, she woke me for some food and water. Then I  stepped out of my apartment for a few-minute ride on the deserted streets and bike lanes.

Well, they weren’t totally  deserted:

The cops were looking at their smart phones.  I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that the NYPD is using those devices to communicate with their officers.

I will write about that bike lane soon.

 

How Long Could He Hold It?

It boggles the mind to realize that on the last day of a three-week race, a lead of less than one minute in overall time (for the whole three weeks) is considered "insurmountable"--unless, of course, you're Greg Lemond or Tadej Podacar.

The one explanation I can come up with is from my own (admittedly) very limited experience with racing:  It's a lot harder to make up time than to lose it. Really, it doesn't take much to give up a minute or more to an opponent:  a flat tire or other malfunction, a slip or fall,  a miscalculation of an opponent's move--or simply a wrong turn.

At least, those are the things we hear about in race reports.  I wonder whether riders have lost races due to events that would be inconsequential in daily life.  

Specifically, I'm thinking of "nature calling."  If we're not racing, we stop when we find a place to "let go." But I suppose that's not possible in a race.

Or if you're being pursued by cops.  

On Saturday night, a 38-year-old man was riding light-less on a Yakima, Washington street.  A constable pulled up toward him, intending to talk to him about the dangers of what he was doing.  But when the officer turned on his bright lights, the man took off. 

After making a few turns, he ditched his bike and backpack and started running down a driveway.  He tripped on a low fence.  The officer threatened to use his Taser on him if he tried to continue his flight.

Then, according to the officer, the man put his hands up and exclaimed, "I just need to poop."

Later, when the police searched the bag the man tossed, the found three cell phones, brass knuckles, a pill cutter, $240 in counterfeit currency, more than 100 blue oxycodone pills laced with fentanyl, nine suboxone strips, two pipes, a scale, knives and some suspicious checks.

Oh, and the police discovered the guy had felony warrants for a Department of Corrections violation, possession of heroin and identity theft.

This leads me to wonder:  What if he'd just "held it" a little longer--and stayed on his bike? 

Time And A Time Trial

The other day, it looked as if the Tour de France would end with its first Slovenian winner.

It did.  Except that the winner wasn't the Slovenian most observers expected.

Going into the race's final stage, it seemed that Primoz Roglic would bring the race's maillot jaune home:  His 57-second lead seemed all but insurmountable, especially since the final stage was a time trial up a mountain:  the sort of event in which he usually does well.

Primoz Roglic (in polka dots) and Tadej Podacar

And he did.  Except that Tadej Podacar, all 21 years of him, did even better.  Two years after winning the Tour de l'Avenir, and one year removed from his third-place finish in the Vuelta a Espana, Podacar became the Tour's youngest winner.  

His final push has been compared to that of Greg Lemond in the 1989 Tour.  Entering the final day of the race, Lemond trailed Laurent Fignon, who won in 1983 and 1984, by 50 seconds.  And the race's final stage was a time trial:  an event in which Fignon tended to do well.

Well, Lemond rode the time trial of his life and earned his second Tour victory.  

The plot outline of Lemond-Fignon is thus a close parallel to that of Podacar-Roglic, except for one thing:  Fignon and Lemond were both well-established cyclists in the prime of their careers.  Roglic, at 30, is about the same age as Fignon and Lemond were during their epic duel, but it's hard to say where he is in his professional career, which he began at 24:  several years later than is normal.  On the other hand, it will be interesting to see whether Podacar's  victory signals the beginning of a long road, if you will, to canonization in the cycling world.

Only time will tell.  On Sunday, a time trial determined the winner of the world's most famous race.

R.B.G.: Hearing The Shofar As I Pedal

As you know by now, Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg passed away on Friday night.

I heard the "breaking news" on the radio that evening, as members of an observant Jewish family were returning from shul to their home just up the block from me.  Rosh Hoshannah had just begun.  In times past--and in some Orthodox communities--it's heralded by sounding a shofar:  a horn made from a hollowed-out ram's tusk.

The shofar was, and is, still used to call attention to significant events, and to warn of danger. RBG's passing seems like a shofar blast.

She didn't single-handedly keep women from living out the nightmare of The Handmaid's Tale. But very few people did more to bring the status of women and girls--and, by extension, others who have been disenfranchised--closer to equality with that of men and boys.

While I didn't know her personally, I have the sense that she did what she did because of something she understood, perhaps viscerally, and which I came to understand during my gender transition:  Anyone who doesn't have agency over his or her body and mind is a slave.  

When I understood that, I believe, I truly became a feminist.  Before that, I supported a woman's right to choose, in all areas of life (including reproduction), and equal opportunities.  But, until I started living as a woman, they were merely "issues."  Once I began my transition, I realized they were matters of my own life:  Even though I never have been, and never will be, pregnant--and, thankfully, do not have to worry about having a hysterectomy without my consent--  I realize now that I could choose to take medications and undergo medical procedures to align my body with my psyche without having to ask permission from any man--or worrying about being imprisoned for violating a law written and enforced by men.

I could also continue cycling for the same reasons.  Until recently, women weren't allowed to ride--or drive--in Saudi Arabia.  In other societies, women and girls are discouraged, or even intimidated, away from such things.

My life--which includes cycling--is possible, in part, because of Justice Bader Ginsberg's work.  Her passing is, among other things, a warning, or at least a signal, that I cannot take it for granted:  a shofar blast, if you will.

How I Don't Want It To End

In my will (yes, I have one of those), I have specified, among other things, that I want my body used for medical or scientific research. Beyond that, I don't care what happens to me or how anyone chooses to memorialize me.

Well, all right, I don't care much.  There are some things, though, I don't want:

I mean, I like sports as much as the next person.  But a funeral party in a sports bar?   People actually do such things?  

You learn all kinds of things while bike riding! 

1000 Books For A Bike

As a Scout, I earned a merit badge for reading.

Until I saw it in Clayton and Magee, the Red Bank, NJ  men's and boys' clothier  that sold Scout uniforms and equipment, I didn't know that such a thing existed.  Nor did my scoutmaster, or anyone else in the troop.  To get the badge, I had to document that I'd read at least 12 books in a year--something I normally do--and write reports, reviews and critiques on them.  

My English teacher, Mrs. McKenna, was also unaware of the badge until I mentioned it. She happily signed off on it and mentioned it to the rest of the class, which included a few other Scouts.  To my knowledge, only one other kid pursued that opportunity.

I don't remember exactly how many books I read, but I know that I easily exceeded the requirements.  I don't think I read 1000, though.

Ayan Geer and Kristopher Depaz did, however.  For their achievement, the Riverhead, Long Island residents got a reward that I never could have dreamed of:  new bicycles, presented to them the other night at their town's public library.

Not to take anything away from their achievements, I will mention that Ayan's favorite books were "Crocodile and Hen" and "Pete the Cat." Kristopher didn't specify a favorite, but mentioned that he loves playing soccer with his father and wants to be a professional player when he grows up.  
One more thing I should mention:  Ayan and Kristopher each read 1000 books before starting kindergarten.

Forget about a merit badge:  They should get medals.  Solid gold ones.  And bicycles for life.

E-Bikes On The Boardwalk?

It looks like electric bikes, or e-bikes, are here to stay.

Although I don't plan to start riding one any time soon, I have nothing against them.  If anything, they're good for people whose knees are giving out on them, or for other people who--whether through aging or some other cause--don't have the strength or stamina they once had but still want to pedal two wheels.

What makes them controversial, though, is their relationship with unmotorized bicycles, other motorized vehicles--and traffic, whether it consists of pedestrians, cyclists or motor vehicles. Specifically, should they be subject to the same rules and regulations as, say, motorcycles?  Or should they categorized with non-motorized bicycles and be allowed to share designated bike lanes and paths with them?

Cities, states and other jurisdictions are coming up their own mandates.  Beach resorts and towns face another question:  Should electric bikes be permitted to roll alongside regular bicycles on boardwalks?

The City Council of Ocean City, Maryland will have to come up with an answer to it when it meets on Monday.  Last week, Councilman Tony De Luca introduced an ordinance that would have amended the city's traffic and vehicle codes to allow Class One motorized bikes--ones that stop assisting the rider when a speed of 20 MPH is reached--on the boardwalk.  Class Two and Three e-bikes, which have a throttle and can reach higher speeds,  would have been banned.

DeLuca's proposal didn't garner enough support to become part of the city's law.  On Monday, the Council will hear opposing recommendations from the Bike Committee and the police commission.  The former cites e-bikes' usefulness for people who are rehabilitating from an injury or have bad knees, while the latter points to difficulties in enforcing e-bike rules and the fact that cities like Virginia Beach ban them altogether.

 

I Don't Want To Be A Guinea Pig Again

This morning my father and I were talking about one thing and another.  "If they come out with a vaccine (for COVID-19), would you get it?" he asked.

"That depends.  If it comes out before Election Day, or even Inauguration Day, I'd have to wonder whether its approval was rushed."

Afterward, I found myself thinking about some of the worst bike parts I've ever used and owned. They were introduced as the lightest, best, strongest or "must-have" in some other way.  I can't help but to think that I, and some riding buddies who also experienced problems like the ones I incurred, were "guinea pigs" for the makers of those components.  

Of course, my collapsing Nuke Proof hubs weren't quite as catastrophic as a faulty vaccine might be.  The shop from which I bought those hubs replaced them with other hubs and equipment. But what do you do if the vaccine causes some physical or medical problem that can't be reversed? 


Note:  If the typeface in this post looks different from that of my other posts, it's because Blogger, in all of its infinite wisdom, decided to change its page and make it impossible to use whatever typefaces you've used before.

Cranking Up A Classic Marque

A little over a year ago, I recounted discovering--along with other novice American cyclists in the 1970s--bicycle and component marques known to generations of riders in other parts of the world.  

What I didn't realize was that some actually were, or would soon be, on the brink of extinction or being changed beyond recognition.  I am thinking of bikes like Falcon, Gitane and  Legnano, who made all sorts of machines from Tour de France winners to urban delivery conveyances--and companies like Nervar, Weinmann, Huret, Stronglight Simplex, Mafac and SunTour, who made the components for those bikes, and others.

Those manufacturers are gone now. (Weinmann-branded rims are made in China and the SunTour name lives on in SR-SunTour forks, which bear no relation, other than the name, to the revered maker of derailleurs and freewheels.)  So was Chater-Lea, a British company that made bicycles and even, for a couple of decades, cars and motorcycles.  But C-L is best known for what the English call "fittings":  parts like pedals, headsets and bottom brackets. They even made frame tubing and lugs.

Chater-Lea's quality was, in its heyday, second to none.  Custom frame builders specified C-L's parts; so did larger manufacturers for their best models.  I never owned or used any of their stuff, but I encountered some when I first worked in a bike shop.  A couple of my early riding companions--who pedaled through the "Dark Ages" when few American adults cycled--rode bikes equipped with C-L.

Those bikes were older than I was.  They sported those pencil-thin steel cottered cranksets (which may have been made by Chater-Lea) you see on old-time racing bikes and that fell out of favor once good-quality mid-priced cotterless cranks became available.  To my knowledge, C-L made bottom brackets only for cottered cranksets, and their pedals were of the traditional "rat trap" variety.  

So, while the stuff was of high quality, its designs were dated or even obsolete. (Clipless pedals all but killed the market for high-quality traditional pedals.)  That is why I was, if unknowingly, witnessing the "last gasp" of a once-revered name in the cycling world:  In 1987, they would cease after nearly a century of making bike parts.

Last year, Andy Richman, a British cycling enthusiast who lives in the US, decided to revive the brand with a ne plus ultra pedal that echoes the company's old designs but employs the highest-grade materials and finished flawlessly.  He said, at the time, that "if jobs are going to come back to the UK, it's got to be for making this kind of stuff."  In other words, "high end, beautiful, artisanal" items.

Now he is introducing a second Chater-Lea item.  Appropriately enough, it's a crankset.  But it's as much a departure from C-L's cottered sets as the pedals are a refinement of a traditional design:  The Grand Tour is a "sub-compact" crankset with 46/30 chainrings (a classic Randonneur/Gran Fondo configuration) designed to fit on JIS square taper axles and work with up to 11 speeds.

If you want to equip your bike with these items, save up your pounds:  You'll need 595 of them (about $775 at current exchange rates) to buy the cranks, and 250 ($325) for the pedals.  

Does Richman plan a complete Chater-Lea bike?

On Your Mount, In The Saddle

Sometimes we are redundant. We repeat ourselves.  We say something we've said before.  And sometimes it's OK.  Someone, I forget whom, told me that when you use different words to say the same thing, it shows only that you're trying really, really hard not to repeat yourself.  Or that you have access to a thesaurus.

I am guilty of this literary tic.  How many times have I referred to my bicycle as my "mount" or "steed"?

Of course, I am not the only person to use equine-related terminology for bicycles and bicycling. (Why do we call bicycle seats "saddles?")  Moreover, more than a few have folks have used horse-related metaphors and imagery to portray human-powered two-wheeled ambulation.  Hey, the owners of North Division Bicycle, a well-regarded shop in Spokane, Washington.

I've never been to The Evergreen State's "Second City."  The first syllable of its name is pronounced "Spoke."  If that doesn't suggest cycling, I don't know what does.

(Who would be the Four Cyclists of the Apocalypse?)