Braking His Enthusiasm

Sometimes the old questions become new again.

A couple of days ago, I wrote about Specialized's decision to have two of its teams ride nothing but clincher tires with tubes on all except one-day "classics" races. They were, ironically, answering a question in the way many of us did two or three decades ago, when high-performance clincher tires and rims became available.  What made Specialized's action all the more interesting is that Roval, the wheel supplier to those teams, decided to offer two of their lightest wheelsets only for tubed clincher tires, thus bucking a trend--fueled at least in part by Specialized itself--toward tubeless tires.  All the more intriguing is that Roval's parent company is--wait for it--Specialized.

Now a four-time Tour de France winner is speaking against, if not bucking, another industry trend that Specialized has helped to foster. 

For this season, Chris Froome has switched teams--and bikes.  For the past ten years, he rode a Pinarello with rim brakes (what most of us ride) for Team Sky/Ineos. That run includes all of his Tour, as well as other, victories.  Now he is riding for Israel Start Up Nation and, as is customary when changing teams, he's also changing bikes.  His new main bike Factor Ostro VAM, and it's equipped with disc brakes.

Froome likes everything about the bike except the brakes.  While he admits that "they do what they're meant to do," he says he's "not 100 percent sold on them yet."  

Chris Froome.  Image by Noa Arnon.

Now, elite racers like Froome are hardly "retrogrouches."  As Eddy Mercx once famously observed, the function of a racer's bikes is to "win and make money."  So they normally welcome whatever will give them an advantage, and many old-timers imagine what they could have done if they'd had the kind of equipment today's pros use.

But Froome makes some of the same complaints about discs we've heard from other riders:  "constant rubbing, the potential for mechanicals, the overheating, the discs becoming warped on descents longer than five or 10 minutes of constant braking."

We've heard those complaints from Froome, other folks riding at all levels today--and from riders back in the 1970s, when I first became a dedicated cyclist.

In those days, discs weren't offered by as many companies--or as widely-used--as they are now. Then, almost all bicycle disc brakes in use were found on tandems, which of course require more stopping power than single bikes.  There were legitimate reasons, other than "retrogrouchiness," why other cyclists didn't use them:  They were even heavier, more cumbersome and complicated than they are now--and even more prone to failures.  In fact, Phil Wood's disc brakes may have been the company's only unsuccessful offering.

What tells us a lot about the state of disc brakes in those days was that they weren't adopted by the early mountain bikers, who retrofitted their old balloon-tired bombers--or built new frames--with cantilever brakes.  One reason was that Joe Breeze, Gary Fisher and all of those other dudes barreling down northern California and New England fire trails were engaging in what would be branded as "downhill" riding in the '90s.  In other words, they were subjecting their bikes to at least one of the conditions Froome describes.  

In a way, Froome is dealing with an issue that faced cyclists of the 1970s and 1980s, just as those Specialized teams dealt with one that confronted cyclists a decade later.  And, while Froome hints that, for the moment, the new answer may be the old answer, those teams are answering it in the way many of us did all of those years ago.

In Its Wake, Another

I guess we're making up for last winter. 

Then, the weather belied a pandemic that was gathering steam:  It hardly snowed at all, and we didn't have an extended cold spell.  The reports I read confirmed what I thought:  The season was one of the warmest winters on record.

One week ago, a storm dumped about 43 cm (17 inches) of snow.  Temperatures remained below freezing until Friday, so much of the snow remained.  In fact, when I rode through Red Hook on Saturday, Sanitation Department trucks were still plowing it.  

I guess they had no place else to dump it.  So, a stretch of Clinton Street was blocked off and the NYSD created a temporary "ridge."

Well, they finished it--and I got a ride in--just in time.  Snow fell again yesterday:  about half as much as the first storm left, but enough to complicate things.

But when the storm left late yesterday, it left a lovely glow in its wake

about two blocks from my apartment.  

 

What's Not To Like?

In recent posts, I've written about the hostility some motorists level at cyclists whenever a new bike lane takes "their" roadway--or, worse, parking spaces--away.

Of course, we are doing no such thing.  But I still--if naively--hope that they'll one day understand some of the best reasons to spinning two pedals instead of pressing one gas pedal:

Tubes--And No Tubulars

 Tubeless tires have been one of the most-ballyhooed developments in cycling during the past few years.  I have not used any myself, but I can see the appeal for certain kinds of riding, particularly off-road:  Tires ridden at low pressures are more prone to "pinch" flats than to punctures.  

The debate over whether tubeless tires will displace their more traditional counterparts reminds me of the argument I heard when I first became a dedicated cyclist:  tubulars vs. clinchers.

My first "serious" bike, a Peugeot PX-10, came with tubular tires.  Their casings wrapped around the tube and were sewn together (hence the nickname, "sew-ups).  They were then attached with a cement with the consistency of applesauce (until it dried) to a rim with a crescent-shaped surface.

The fully-enclosed tube made for a more buoyant (not for nothing do the French call these tires "pneus boyeaux") and lively ride.  They also were lighter than any clinchers available at the time, which accentuated their performance advantage over "clinchers," the tires 99 percent of us ride.

Clincher (top) and tubular tire.

Tubed (left) and tubeless clincher tires

Getting a flat on any tire is not fun, but fixing one on a tubular is an ordeal.  We usually carried a spare with us and, if we flatted, we changed the tire, letting the cement dry to about the consistency of bubble gum.  Then we'd cross our fingers for the ride home. Professional racing teams are trailed by cars, which usually carried spare wheels with tires glued solidly onto them.

That is why, for my first tour-- which I did on the PX-10--I had a set of clincher wheels built.  In those days, some riders toured (with loaded panniers!) on tubulars, but I was not going to do any such thing, especially when I ventured into the countryside of a foreign land.  Those wheels--my first custom-built set--and tires, together, weighed about two kilograms (a pound and a quarter) more than the tubulars, even though they were among the lightest of their kind available.  The tires were less prone to flats and much easier to fix.

Over time, companies like Michelin, Continental, Panaracer and IRC developed lighter clincher tires with improved durability, and Mavic created  rims--the "E" series--that adapted the weight-to-strength ratio of tubular rims to clinchers and added a "hook" bead that made it possible to use high-pressure folding clincher tires.  (Any rim made today with even a pretense of quality, in whatever diameter or width, is based on the “E” rims’ design.) Thus, the gap in speed and road feel between tubulars and clinchers narrowed to the point to the point that whatever benefits tubulars offered no longer offset their fragility, at least for most riders.

After my brief foray into racing, I kept one set of tubular wheels for fast rides.  But, as I developed other ineterests (and relationships), I decided that I'd rather spend my time riding than fixing flats.  Also, tire-making companies were offering fewer options in tubulars, or stopped offering them altogether.  So, about twenty years ago, I rode tubulars for the last time.  I'd own my last set of such wheels and tires, briefly, when I bought "Zebbie," my 1984 Mercian King of Mercia, just over a year ago.  Hal Ruzal built me a nice set of clinchers (with classic Campagnolo hubs and Mavic Open Pro rims) and I sold the tubulars that came with "Zebbie" about a month after she came into my life.

I mention all of this to provide context for a story I came across yesterday.  It seems that the tubular vs. clincher, and not the tubeless vs. tubed, question has once again reared its head.

For the 2021 racing season (assuming, of course, there is one), both of Specialized Bike's  World Tour men's teams--Bora Hansgrohe and Deceuninck-Quick Step--have committed to abandoning tubulars for all races except the early-season classics.  Both teams plan, eventually, to get away from sew-ups altogether.

Roval Rapide CLX wheel

What might surprise some people, though, is that they are not casting their lot with tubeless tires.  While both teams used tubeless, as well as tubular, wheels and wheelsets during the shortened 2020 season, their decision to go with clinchers might have been inspired by Julian Alaphilippe's Tour de France stage win on them.  Also, Roval, the wheel-maker of choice for many in the peloton, is making two of its lightest road wheelsets for use only with tubed clincher tires. "When it's possible to create tubeless wheel/tyre systems that outperform tube-type clincher systems, that's what we'll recommend to riders," read a statement from the company that, for the past couple of years, looked ready to go all-in on tubeless clincher tires.

So, for the time being, some of today's young racers on high-tech carbon-fiber bikes have returned to the choice many of us made two or three decades ago:  clincher tires.  With inner tubes.

What Michael Carries In His Back-Pak

In one of my earliest posts, I recalled the messenger bag I carried before messenger bags became fashion accessories for hipsters.  I used it as I sluiced through the streets of Manhattan (and, occasionally, beyond) on my bike to deliver things legal and otherwise.  In that bag, I carried everything from prints (from a Soho gallery to Judy Collins. Yes, that Judy Collins!) to papers (for contracts to, and possibly on) as well as, believe it or not, pizza.  It also bore the weight of secrets I was trying to keep and issues I was avoiding by working a job where I never had contact with anyone for more than a couple of minutes at a time.

Some messengers still use bags like the one I had, except that they're made from different materials than the canvas that formed my workday luggage.  Since then, I've seen bicycle delivery folks use everything from "pizza racks" on the front, to panniers on the rear, of their bikes.  Some also use baskets of one kind and another.

Lately, I've seen another conveyance that looks the kind of insulated rectangular bags that are sometimes attached to "pizza racks,"  with backpack straps attached.  I imagine that they are handy for making deliveries, but I don't imagine that I'd want to use one to  carry loads for any significant amount of time:  The boxy shape doesn't look like it would be very comfortable on my back.

They are used, however, for a good reason:  It allows bicycle (and, increasingly, e-bike and motorized-bike) riders to make more deliveries in one trip than other kinds of bags or baskets would.  That would be especially important, I think, if those who receive the deliveries haven't had much, or anything, to eat in a couple of days--or if you wouldn't find them by knocking on a door or ringing a bell.

Michael Pak uses such a backbox. (Is that a good portmanteau of "backpack" and "box"?) So do some of his fellow delivery people in Los Angeles' Koreatown.  But they're not delivering kimchi to young software developers or hipsters.  Rather, the grateful recipients of their deliveries live on the neighborhood's streets.

One Monday in August, Pak put out an Instagram post asking for volunteers to help him deliver lunch kits on Friday.  "I picked up groceries on Thursday and packed them in my studio apartment while watching a movie," he recalls.  "Within an hour, I'd packed 80 lunches and called it a night."  He went to bed that night with no idea of who, if anyone, would show up the next day.

To his surprise, about 15 people came out to help him distribute the meals.  He realized, though, that his meal distribution could not be a one-time effort. "I realized that for this to work and grow, I had to be consistent and not be afraid to ask for help," he says.

Now, with the help of his friend Jacob Halpern and local volunteers, "Bicycle Meals" is making deliveries in Koreatown, to those without homes, on Mondays and Fridays.  The meals they deliver include a sandwich, fruit, water, snacks, hand sanitizer and a mask.  "The long term goal is to feed our neighbors every day," Pak declares.

To make his deliveries, he rides a BMX bike "gifted from a friend."  The "backbox," is, however, key.  "It can store up to 15 lunch kits at once," he explains.  "It's one of those Postmates delivery bags I found on Amazon."  

I carried a lot in my old messenger bag.  But I don't think I delivered anything as important as what Michael Pak delivers in his Backbox.

(Hmm.. Should we call it a Michaelpak?)

Photos by Wray Sinclair.

Aiming For A Cyclist

In recent posts, I've noted increasing hostility from drivers.  Because more bike lanes are being built, or simply more of us are on the road, we are blamed for slowing motorists down or taking away their parking spaces.  Or they are simply flustered over any of a number of other things, and we just happen to be there when they want to take out their frustration.

Apparently, the phenomenon of drivers directing their rage against cyclists is even more widespread than I'd realized.  And it takes even more disturbing turns than, so far, I've experienced.  In this video, a pickup driver aims for a delivery cyclist in the supposed bike haven of Portland:

According to BikePortland Editor/Publisher Jonathan Maus, this incident is just the latest in an apparent epidemic of such attacks in the Oregon city.

La Tete De La Course--Or La Lanterne Rouge--In Gender Equality?

Yesterday, I used the story of Tara Gins to illustrate the unequal treatment of women in competitive cycling, and sports generally.

Today, I have better news on that front.  The Trek-Segafredo team is now offering equal pay to its male and female riders.  "Salary really depends on the individual, but we can confirm that all of our professional road cycling athletes --regardless of gender--make at or above the minimum for the men's program," according to Eric Bjorling, the director of brand marketing at Trek Bikes.  

The policy, he said, went into effect on the first day of this year.  It puts Trek-Segafredo ahead of the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI), the sport's world governing body.  While the UCI mandated maternity leave and health insurance for female riders last year, its minimum salary--20,000 Euros--is half of the 40,045 guaranteed to men.  Even after annual increases that would raise the minimum women's salary to 30,000 in 2023, female riders would still make only three-quarters of their male counterparts--assuming, of course, the men don't get a raise.

Lizzie Deignan

Trek-Segafredo's move is important because it's one of the better-known and more successful teams in the peloton.  Its female roster includes Lizzie Deignan, who won La Course--the women's version of the Tour de France--last year.  

Trek-Segafredo is moving to la tete de la course in gender equality.  Will the UCI ride abreast, draft T-S or become the lanterne rouge 

Pictures Of A Double Standard

Megan Rapinoe and the US Women's Soccer Team have used their dominance in the sport to expose the inequities between the ways men and women are treated in the sports world.

Their advocacy work has focused on the differences in pay and facilities, but has also highlighted the root of the problem:  There are few women in high-level executive posts, not only on teams and sports leagues and federations, but also in the industries related to them.

One result of that dearth of female management is that female candidates are held to very different standards from men, in areas outside of, as well as in, their sports. It's hard not to think, for example, that one reason why, after nearly a quarter-century of play, the Women's National Basketball Association (WNBA) still plays in lesser venues than most college teams is that the majority of players are black (and tall) and that many are, or are perceived as, lesbians--no small matter to potential sponsors who are worried about boycotts led by right-wing and religious organizations.  

(Although Rapinoe and other members of the USWST are openly lesbian or bisexual, the team first became media darlings after its 1999 World Cup victory. Everyone on that squad, with the exception of goalkeeper Briana Scurry, was white and all were seen as "the girls next door.")

I can just see Tara Gins nodding knowingly. From 2016 to 2020, she raced professionally in Belgium, where fans can name literally anyone, professional or amateur, in the peloton or on the track.  She sounds like just the person to become the directeur sportif of a team, right?

Tara Gins

Well, the management of an under-23 team thought so.  That is, until some photos came their way.  Apparently, because the team--which Gins could not name, for various reasons--is under-23 and thus not bound by UCI rules, they could make agreement verbal, without a written contract. That, of course, made it easier for them to get out of the agreement when, they claim, potential sponsors objected to the photos.

It's not clear which photos caused the team to renege, but Gins believes that they were part of photoshoots she did for Playboy last May and for a Belgian company's calendar two months later.  The calendar is distributed only to the company's customers, so the photos weren't made public.  

Gins acknowledges that in the Playboy photos she is "nude" with "some areas covered" so they are "not vulgar." In the calendar photos, she says, she's topless and the photos have "nothing to do with cycling."  So it's interesting, to say the least, to wonder who "leaked" those photos--or if the team's director sought them out.  She was told that a team staff member came across them and sent them to other staff members in a group chat.

As Gins points out, the photos "harmed no one" and the phots were taken before she was offered the job.  More to the point, she says, her experience points to a "double standard" in the sport.  "In a men's race, they want flower girls to dress very sexy and that is OK," she explains. But if someone wants a job in men's cycling "who used to be the sexy girl," then "it's not OK."  

Even before the job offer was withdrawn, Gins had experiences that pointed to the "double standard" of which she speaks.  While she raced, she had demeaning encounters with team leaders or soigneurs.  "I was literally assaulted," she recounts.  A mechanic "crept into a shower with me after a workout;" she was kissed and heard inappropriate comments directed toward her.  "I had a manager come in when I was getting a massage to say how horny I looked," she recalls.

During my youth, there was an ad (for, ironically, a brand of cigarettes) that exclaimed, "You've come a long way, baby!" Well, if you'll indulge me a cliche, we have a long way to go.  Just ask Tara Gins.

Lonely As A Bike Parked In A Snowstorm?

Whenever a winter storm watch or warning is issued, people--especially ever-cynical New Yorkers like me--wonder, "Is it really going to be all that?" After all, we've heard such forecasts before only to see little more than a few flakes.

Well, this time the National Weather Service, the Governor and Mayor weren't being unnecessarily alarmist.   The warning has come true--and, as I write this, the storm isn't nearly over.

William Wordsworth's may have "wandered lonely as a cloud."  Would he have stood lonely as a bike parked in a snowstorm?  Of course, such a line wouldn't fit into the rhythm and meter of his poem.  Perhaps he would have written something different if he'd seen Martie, my commuter on the street, around the corner from my apartment.  Hmm...Lonely as Martie?  Of course, the poem would have to tell us about her.

Never Changing Their Stripes

Zebrakenko bicycles first appeared in the US during the mid-1970s, just past the Bike Boom's peak.

Like many other Japanese bikes of that era, their lugwork and paint were clean, and they came with good, high-value components from the likes of SunTour, Shimano, Sugino and Sakae Ringyo (SR).  

Somewhere along the way--I am guessing in the early or mid-1980s, the name was shortened to "Zebra."  It was, I reckon, an attempt to evoke the animal's agility, as I don't recall any of their bikes painted with black and white stripes.

Or, perhaps, whoever rebranded the bikes had this in mind: