To Ease The Shock

Consternation followed his victory.

There weren't any rumors of doping or other cheating.  Nor were any questionable decisions by race officials.

The fact that he was 37 years old--ancient for a European pro cyclist--or that he'd been trying to win that particular race for years didn't get tongues wagging.  Even his palmares, which included a number of wins and high places in one-day races but no such results in multi-day events, wasn't the reason why cycling fans and the media were shocked when he won the Paris-Roubaix.

When Gilbert Duclos-Lassalle ascended the podium in the Roubaix Velodrome on 12 April 1992, no one talked about the course of the annual race--dubbed "L'enfer du nord" (the Hell of the North) for its cobblestones, mud and unpredictable weather-- or his persévérance.  Rather, all of the attention was on his bike--specifically, one part.

At that time, suspension or "telescoping" (as they're called in Britain) front forks were the hot new item on mountain bikes.  Until that day, no one had seen them on road bikes.  

Gibus, as he was called, rode a LeMond road bike equipped with a specially-modified Rock Shox fork.  The funny thing is that, with all due respect to LeMond bikes, the fork was really its only unusual feature.  The rest of the frame was a typical road bike of the time, equipped with standard Campagnolo road components.

What's surprising, to me, is that there weren't more attempts to create suspended road bikes before Gibus rode his.   The great Bernard Hinault won the Tour de France five times and a number of one-day events.  But he refused to ride Paris-Roubaix until 1981 (he won) because the jarring conditions would aggravate his tendinitis, the condition that caused him to withdraw from the cold, rainy 1980 Tour.  He's not the only elite cyclist who couldn't or wouldn't ride P-R because of bone-shaking conditions.

Since then, road bikes have incorporated various forms of  front suspension.  Rear suspension, however, caught on in any major way with professionals because it's difficult to achieve a balance between weight, shock absorption when needed and stiffness when ridden on smooth surfaces.

In April 2018, Specialized applied for a patent describing a system that allows the upper portion of a bike's seat post to move and absorb shock.  To accomplish this, the seat post is clamped much further down the seat tube.  The patent application, approved in October of last year, indicates that a pivot could be placed there and that it might be adjustable to the rider's weight.

According Specialized, the system could make its appearance on, appropriately enough, the company's Roubaix model.  And it might come out next year:  the 30th anniversary of Gilbert Duclos-Lassalle's first Paris-Roubaix win. (He also won the following year.)

I can't say I'm shocked. 

Photo of Gilbert Duclos-Lassalle in 1992 Paris-Roubaix by Graham Watson.  Drawings from Specialized patent application.

She Knew: Self-Care Is Not A Luxury

 Alert:  I will reveal something very personal (yes, even by the standards of this blog) in this post.  

She would be 87 years old today. But she lives on for me, and many other people.

I first encountered Audre Lorde's poetry when I was in college--right about the time the world (as I knew it, anyway) was discovering black artists and lesbians--and colleges were starting to offer courses in Women's Studies (no gender studies or queer studies) and African-American Studies.

That was during the late 1970s.  The way I came to her poems--and her work as a feminist activist--wasn't through class assignments:  She came to read on our campus.  Honestly, I knew nothing about her before then--or, to be fair, many of the poets who gave readings at our college. That, of course, is exactly the reason I went to those readings.

Some I've long since forgotten.  But I knew Audre Lorde would stick with me, even thought I was far from being "out" as a non-heterosexual, non-cisgender person and am about as white as anybody can be.  (According to a DNA test, I am 4 percent African.  Anthropology 101 tells us the human race began in Africa, so that proportion seems like some sort of baseline for everyone.)  Her poems were unlike any I'd heard or read up to that time and, in ways I wouldn't articulate until much later, she showed there were ways one could carry one's self in this world that, up to that point, I hadn't seen.

She's one of those writers that even people who've never read her quote, sometimes without realizing it.  "Poetry is not a luxury." Of course, you're not going to hear that from your parents or most of the people you know when you announce that you're changing your major from Business or Engineering to Creative Writing or English Literature (unless, of course, you tell them the latter is a preparation for teaching or law school). What she meant is that poetry is, in her conception--and mine--an attempt to say what hasn't been said and, as often as not, what others won't say.

I don't know whether she did much cycling.  But these words of hers capture the reason why many of us  ride:

She knew about self-care:  Some of her later activism was motivated by her battle with breast cancer, which claimed her at 58 years old.  Her spirit motivates my riding and writing, which are as much a part of my self-care as visiting my doctor.  

Oh, my doctor is part of the Callen-Lorde Community Health Center, of which she was a co-founder.  I go to that doctor because I like him, and on principle:  That he would work for C-L when he probably could make more elsewhere says much about his motivations, of which Audre Lorde would surely approve.

As Smooth As The Icycycle

 If Shakespeare's Macbeth were working today as a meteorologist, his forecast might be "Snowstorm and snowstorm and snowstorm."

At least, that's how it's seemed for the past couple of weeks.  And Texas is sending some more white stuff and ice up this way, I hear.  

So, in response to commenter "Jay from Demarest," I am outfitting one of my bikes for the weather.

Hmm, it might not make the NYC Transportation, Sanitation and Police Departments happy.  But I might've liked it last week on the Coney Island boardwalk--or even on the icy patches dotting the bike lanes.

An engineer who identifies himself as The Q (an unfortunate moniker in times like these, wouldn't you say?) wanted to ride his bike across a frozen lake. Ever the tinkerer,  he replaced the wheels with circular sawmill blades.  When he tried to cross that lake, however,  the blades cut through the ice, making it impossible for him to ride on the surface. So, he took the bike back to his workshop and fitted less-sharp metal bits to the blade's teeth.  That did the trick:  His vessel--which he dubbed the "Icycycle"--took him to the distant shore. 

While we don't know his name, some of us have seen "The Q"s work:  Two years ago, he replaced a pair of conventional bicycle wheels with ones he fashioned from multiple running shoes affixed to large spokes.  What the purpose of that was, I don't know, and he admits that the ride was bumpy.  He claims, however, that his "Icycycle" rides "as smooth as ice."

Will He Still Be A Paperboy?

Yesterday, while waiting on the supermarket line, a second register opened.  A customer stepped up to it; a couple of people on the line grumbled.  But a man who stood behind me reminded them, "They were ahead of us."

Hearing that, I was reminded of how "they" has become acceptable as a gender-neutral singular pronoun.  I can recall, years ago, the chair (actually, at that time, chairman) of the department in which I taught castigated a colleague for using "they" in that way.  "But we don't know whether it's a guy or girl," she protested.  Ever the fusty one, that chairman reminded that colleague, in one of the most condescending tones I've ever heard, that "they" is plural.

Of course, that locution hasn't made its way into most formal writing. Nor has the use of "their" for "his or her."  I believe, however, that it, and "they" will, unless someone comes up with useful, roll-off-the-tongue, gender-neutral singular substitutes for "him or her," "he or she" and "his or her."

Perhaps I pay more attention than most other people do to such things because I've taught English--and am a transgender woman.   Because I identify as a woman, I go by feminine pronouns.  But I also understand, better than most people (if I do say so myself), why someone who doesn't identify on either side of the gender binary would use "they" and "their" in the absence of other gender-neutral pronouns one can use to reference one's self.

I am happy that terms referring to cyclists and cycling are, mainly, gender-neutral, at least in English.  But I remember working in my first bike shop and hearing an older mechanic referring to "male" and "female" parts--and noticing that while some shops had a female sales person or even manager, the industry and sport were overwhelmingly male-dominated. 

Before that, I held two titles, if you will, that are particularly ironic, given how I now live.  During my Brooklyn childhood, I was an altar boy.  Today they're called "altar servers" but in the years just after Vatican II, girls weren't allowed on the altar--except to get married.  (At least, that's my understanding of how things were in the Roman Catholic church of the time.)  As incongruous as the title and role seem to me now, I have to admit that, at the time, I enjoyed the experience:  In a community where most of us attended the same church, and many of us the same Catholic school, altar boys were held in an esteem few other kids enjoyed.  Also, the church sponsored events for us:  We went to shows, ballgames, amusement parks and the like.  Those experiences, I think, helped to form some of my earliest friendships.

A couple of years later, after my family moved to New Jersey, I became a paperboy or, if you like, newsboy for the Asbury Park Press.  Although some women (including, for a time, my mother) delivered bundles of newspapers to paperboys, it was unheard-of for girls to deliver an individual copy to someone's mailbox or doorstep.   When the newsboy with one of the Press's largest routes "retired" (he graduated high school and joined the Army), the folks in the Press office "weren't sure" that it "would be OK" for a girl to take over.  But a few people, including my mother, managed to convince them that the girl in question would be a capable replacement--and she was.

I enjoyed darting down the streets and winding through the cul-de-sacs of Port Monmouth and New Monmouth, a sack of papers slung across my body, on my Schwinn Continental.  For one thing, I was getting paid to ride my bike.  For another, I felt free:  I had no other imperative but to be sure that when people came home from work or picking up their kids, a copy of the newspaper was in their mailbox, doorway or wherever else they wanted to find it.  

It didn't matter that I wasn't the best-looking, most popular or smartest kid in the class--or even what my gender identity or sexual orientation might have been.  All that mattered was that people got their copies of the Asbury Park Press. That, of course, was the appeal being a New York City messenger would, years later, hold for me:  Nobody cared whether I could "fit in" as long as they got their papers and packages.

Given who I am--more specifically, how I've become who I am--it is indeed ironic that I once worked and identified as a paperboy. Believe it or not, it's even stranger to see someone else, who's never identified as anything but male, to so identify himself.

George Bailey, paperboy

Every morning, George Bailey delivers copies of the Daily Mail in Headcorn, the southeastern England village where he lives.  It's not his first job:  Before taking up the route, he worked at a local golf course, for a food manufacturer and a stockbroker. Yes, you read that right.  Oh, and he did those things after working a paper round for the first time, starting at age 11.

Now he's 80, and still refers to himself as a "paperboy."  He returned to making deliveries as a pensioner, but recently considered "retiring" from it.  That is, until he made headlines and someone folks from Evans Cycles and Raleigh heard about them.  Together, they donated an e-bike to him.  "Offering a little electrical assistance when needed," e-bikes "increase enjoyment and ultimately encourage riders to ride more often," said David Greeenwood of Evans Cycles. 

Of the e-bike, Bailey said, "It's given me a new lease on life."  Now that he's using it, "I might even still be doing this when I'm 90."

If he is, will he still be referring to himself as a "paperboy?"  

Their Sales Came On Two Wheels

Five years ago, I wrote about "Bicycle Day."

During the first "bicycle boom," bicycle makers debuted their new models on what was then called Presidents' Day. At that time--the last two decades of the 19th Century and the first of the 20th-- the holiday was observed on George Washington's Birthday, 22 February.  Later, Lincoln's Birthday (12 February) would be observed and, finally, during the 1970s, the two fetes would be merged into Presidents' Day, observed on the third Monday in February.

"Bicycle Day" was a big deal in the days before motorcycles and automobiles because it was the first mode of transportation that was potentially faster--and lower-maintenance--than horses or horse-drawn carriages.  The bicycle also remains, to this day, the only amplifier of human energy, meaning that it's the only known device that can take the energy a person would expend to walk or run and turn it into a faster form of forward motion without any other input.

Bill Clinton, riding indoors

Just as the bicycle has been called, with good reason, as the "parent of the automobile and grandparent of the airplane," Bicycle Day can be seen as the forerunner of other retail traditions.  As motorcycles and, later, automobiles became the "main event" of American capitalism, companies debuted their new motorcycle and car models on Washington's Birthday and, later, Presidents' Day--and dealerships held sales and other events to mark these events.  

Some car and motorcycle dealerships continue the custom to this day. More common, however, are the myriad of Presidents' Sales, on everything from lingerie to Legos, in brick-and-mortar stores as well as online retailers.  In some circles, Presidents' Day has come to be known as the "second Black Friday" or "second Cyber Monday," as store owners and website managers stoke their "bottom lines" after the lull that follows the Christmas-season rush.

Ronald Reagan with first wife Jane Wyman, presumably during their Hollywood years.  When was the last time you saw someone smoking a pipe while riding a bike?

Whether or not they are aware of it, those businesspeople are carrying on a tradition brought to them on two wheels, via Bicycle Day.

(Photos are from The Bicycle Story.)

I Love You As Much As I Love My Bike. Really, I Do!

 One of the more felicitious times in my life was when I had a partner who enjoyed cycling.  I didn't have to coax her to ride; sometimes she beckoned me onto my bike.

From cyclelicio

But some of you are not quite as fortunate.  I've "been there, done that," too:  I had a spouse and a couple of paramours who not only didn't ride, but who were convinced that my cycling was "stealing" time from them--or, worse, that I was going on rides to see someone else with whom I was having an affair.

From Bike Nashbar

No matter what I said or did, I couldn't convince them that I was choosing my bike over them.  

I'm single now.  I don't mind, for any number of reasons:

Happy Valentine's Day!

(If that last image best represents this Valentine's Day for you, here's a song for you.  It was released on Valentine's Day.)

Getting Untucked

 This sort of thing has got to stop.  Otherwise people will keep on buying tickets.

That assessment has been attributed to Conn Smythe, the longtime owner of hockey's Toronto Maple Leafs.  He is also said to have threatened to fire any player who won the Lady Byng Memorial Trophy, which the National Hockey League awards for the player who best exemplifies "sportsmanship and gentlemanly play."

(What does it say about the league when one of the LBMT winners was nicknamed "Butch?")

Smythe--if he was indeed calling, if in sarcasm, for its abolition--was talking about the fights that often break out during hockey games.  To be fair, fisticuffs are less frequent today than they were in the 1970s and 1980s, when every team had an "enforcer" and at least one team built its strategy around rough, often violent play.

And I met more than a few people who, after watching a game, wouldn't talk about a deft pass or slick goal.  Instead, they'd enthuse about a brawl involving, say, Dave Schulz or "Tiger" Williams.  So, if Smythe indeed uttered the words at the beginning of this post, he may have been onto something.

At any rate, he knew that his sport, like just about every other, has moves and tactics that are popular with fans (some, anyway) but cause the sports' governing bodies--and, sometimes, commentators--to wag their fingers, whether at the player who did something not-quite-legal or ethical, or the fans who enjoyed it.

Photo by David Ramos/Getty Images

In cycling, one of those tactics is riding in a "super tuck" position.  The rider places his or her forearms on the handlebars--sometimes on "aero bar" extensions for this purpose--and pedals, head down and back tilted forward.  Sometimes the rider even sits on the frame's top tube.

This move originated with time trialists, became popular on the track and increasingly became part of road racing, especially in "breakaways" or downhill descents.  In races that are decided by seconds, or fractions thereof, riding for a time in this position can make a difference between finishing on the podium or in the pack.

For whatever advantages it may offer, one can be forgiven for wondering whether teams, race promoters or others encourage racers to ride in the position because it makes for great photos, posters and videos.  I'll admit that it catches my eye, even though I've seen it many times.

But that's not the reason why the Union Cyclisme Internationale (UCI) is banning it.  Rather, the sport's governing body cites the danger, not only to the riders themselves, but to the riders--and, in some cases, spectators--around them.  While the position is aerodynamically efficient and may allow maximum use of certain muscle groups for brief periods of time, it's also less stable.  

Opponents of the ban cite the riders' skill:  After all, their "day at the office," if you will, is spent on their bikes or trainers.  So, they say, such riders, who understand its pros and cons, should be allowed to take the risk of using it.  The other riders in the peloton have, one assumes, similar skill levels to person "going into a tuck" and will either do the same or adjust, in some other way.  

Of course, this argument begs two questions:  1. If riders are allowed to take the inherent risks of riding in "the tuck," should they be allowed to take on other risks--such as from using performance-enhancing substances?  2. Is a "blanket" ban the right solution to eliminate the risks inherent in "the tuck?"

Whatever its merits, or lack thereof, the ban is set to take effect on 1 April.  No, that's not a joke!

Lincoln's Ride

As a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, you may not be doing your regular commute.  I have mixed feelings about not doing mine:  a varied route, I enjoyed it--especially the stretch in Randall's Island--but as a result of not doing it, I've had more time--at least when I'm not getting doored or shoveling snow!--to ride for fun.

I wonder whether Abraham Lincoln felt the same way about his commute.  

For three summers (1862-64), he moved to a cottage in Petworth.  Today it's a fashionable neighborhood in the northwestern part of Washington, DC.  In Lincoln's time, however, it was still mainly rural.  And, although contraptions we'd recognize as bicycles had been created, they weren't in wide use.  So, Abe made the three-mile trip from Petworth to the White House on a horse.

Although he moved to the house for space and fresh air--and, one assumes, to escape from the pressures of leading the nation during its Civil War--he liked the commute because it brought him into contact with those affected by his decisions, according to Jenny Phillips of President Lincoln's Cottage.  On his route he would have seen, among other things, the Captiol building, which was under construction. He also passed First National Cemetery, which predated Arlington and where 40 bodies were buried every day.

In the summer of 2018, the Cottage and DC Cycling Concierge hosted a bike tour that re-traced the 16th President's route.  Unlike them, Lincoln rode alone--until someone shot at him. (The bullet went through his top hat.)  After that, he agreed to ride with a cavalry.  

He requested that Mary, his wife, not be told.  I suspect, though, that none of the DC Cycling Concierge or the Cottage had to hide the details of their ride from anyone.  I'm sure they're wishing him a happy birthday today!

Between Snowstorms

Yesterday afternoon I pedaled along the Queens and Brooklyn waterfronts to Coney Island.  More snow was on the way, so I wanted to get a few miles in.  

Along the way, I encountered a few things I expected, such as snow piled (deliberately?) on the bike lanes and ice patches.  

And on the Coney Island Boardwalk:

Even the sea and sky seemed to reflect the storm's residue:

The funny thing is that the Verrazano Narrows promenade (the one that passes under the bridge), which I rode on my way home, was snow- and ice-free--and teeming with people out for late-day walks.  I think I saw two or three other cyclists.

I admit that I wasn't riding fast.  But it was good, all good.

 

Another Kind Of Justice

 The second Senate impeachment trial continues today.  But I am going to talk about another kind of justice:  the poetic kind.

One fine day in 2017, Juli Briskman rode her bike in Sterling, Virginia.  Minivans passed beside her.  That in itself is not unusual. Even the fact that they were black would not have been noteworthy, especially given the proximity of Ms. Briskman's route to the nation's capital city.

But she knew who was in one of those vehicles:  the owner of the nearby golf course. She made a gesture toward him because she knew he probably wouldn't have heard what she might have said:  Truck Fump.

All right, that's an anagram of what she could have said.  So you know what kind of gesture she made.  Who among us has not made it at motorists who cut us off or did other things to endanger us?

Normally, such an incident would go unnoticed.  But someone posted it, and it went viral.  Someone brought it to the attention of her employer--a government contracting firm.  As a result, she lost her job as a marketing executive because her bosses decided she'd violated the company's code of conducted.

Now, there are all kinds of ways people deal with the loss of their jobs.  They depend mainly on the fired employee's circumstances and temperament:  They can look for another job, sue, go into business for themselves, go back to school or pursue something they've always wanted to do, among other things.

Juli Briskman decided to run for office.

In November, she won a seat in the Algnonkian District of the Loudon County Board of Supervisors.  Sworn in last month, her new job includes overseeing leisure facilities.  

In that capacity, she's already helped to build bicycle lanes in her district.  Oh, and she's worked to remove a Confederate monument and release funds for COVID-19 relief.

And she's a Democrat.

Hmm...a Democrat working to build bike lanes and remove Confederate monuments--and release funds for COVID-19 relief.  In just a few weeks, she's managed to accomplish three things Mango Mussolini would hate.  It sounds like poetic justice to me.

Photos in this post by Brendan Smialowski, from Getty Images.

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: