My Morning Commute: Only In 1984. Only From Cannondale.

On my way to work today, I saw only one other cyclist.  I wasn't surprised because this morning was the coldest we've had since February.  And it was windy, which I really noticed when crossing the RFK Bridge.  

That cyclist, though, was riding a bike older than he is.  That, in itself, is not so unusual, as I often see people--particularly the young--on machines passed on to them by parents or older siblings, or found in basements, garages, barns or yard sales.

Some of those bikes could fetch money on eBay as "vintage" items.  In a way, that's very funny to me, because I remember when they were the sorts of things you'd see every day.  Most were good for the sorts of rides and riders they were designed for, but we never thought they were exceptional in any way.

But the rider I saw today was pedaling a rig that was unusual when it was made--and simply strange today:

Cannondale made its first mountain bike in 1984.  It's the one in the photo above--and the one ridden by the fellow I saw today.  Unfortunately, I didn't get to take a photo of the bike.  But, from my brief glimpse of it, I don't think it had been ridden very much.  

When that bike was made, mountain bikes were still new to most people who didn't live in northern California or, perhaps, upper New England.  It seems that those who were involved in the then-evolving sport of mountain biking hadn't developed any notions about what mountain bikes were "supposed" to be.  

At least, their notions seemed fluid compared to those of us who were road bikers, even those as young as I was:  While the designs of certain components had evolved and refined, a good road racing, touring or sport-touring bike had more or less the same design and elements (lugged steel frames with a certain range of geometries) they'd had for about two or three generations before us.  

On the other hand, the first mass-marketed mountain bike--the Specialized Stumpjumper-- began production only three years earlier.  Its design was a kind of cross-breed of the custom mountain bikes Tom Ritchey, Gary Fisher and a few other pioneers had been making for about half a decade.  Although the first shipment of 125 Stumpjumpers (built in Japan) sold out in six days and subsequent runs sold even more quickly, the Stumpjumper would not set the standard for mountain-bike design--at least, not for very long. 

The truth was that even folks like Ritchey, Fisher and Chris Chance were still figuring out how to design their bikes, which had begun with Schwinn cruisers retrofitted with multiple gears and caliper brakes.  By the time the Stumpjumper came along, they and folks like Charlie Kelly were building lugged or fillet-brazed frames of chrome-moly tubing with long wheelbases--which, really, were lighter (yet stronger) versions of the old cruisers.  

According to the information I've come across, all of the early mountain bike frames--including that of the Stumpjumper--were built from steel.  That is no surprise when you consider that about 99 percent of bikes were still being fabricated from that material. The only difference was that the lighter, more expensive bikes used alloy steels--maganese molybdenum (Reynolds 531) or chrome molybdenum (Columbus and Tange), while cheaper, heavier bikes used carbon steel.  

Although bikes were made from it as early as the 1890s, aluminum was little-used as a frame material until the mid-1970s, when the "screwed and glued" Alan frames were built.  A few years later, Gary Klein designed an aluminum frame with wide-diameter tubing to make it stiffer.  In 1982--the year after the Stumpjumper first saw the light of day--Cannondale made the first mass-produced aluminum bicycles.

Those first Cannondales were road bicycles--racing, touring and sport models.  If you rode one of those early Cannondales, as I did, you know that their design has changed quite a bit.  So, I think it's fair to say that if Cannondale was still figuring out how to make aluminum road bikes, they were really starting from "square one" with that first mountain bike.  But it's also fair to say that no one else knew how to design aluminum mountain bikes, for--at least, from the information I've gathered--no one else, not even Klein, was building them at that time.

For all I know, the fellow I saw today on an early Cannondale mountain bike may have no idea about the history I've just described.  He probably just knows that he's riding a funny-looking bike.  Maybe he doesn't care.

Still, I can't help but to wonder who came up with the idea of designing a bike around a 24 inch rear wheel with a 26 inch front. As fluid as ideas about mountain bikes were at that time,  Cannondale was probably the only bike maker that could get away with doing such a thing.  And 1984 was probably the only year they could have done it.

Letting The Cat Out Of My Randonneur Bag

I just did something dangerous.

It was even more risky than riding my old Bontrager Race Lite with a Rock Shox Judy down the steps of Montmartre.  Or rappelling from a rock face over white waters to a rocky shore.  

Those stunts could have left me maimed.  But of course I didn't believe that was going to happen to me; otherwise, I never would have done them. Truth be told, I knew that neither of them would last any longer than "the pause that refreshes", if you know what I mean. 

But what I did could have taken away hours that I will never get back.  You see, in the middle of reading those stacks of papers that seem to multiply no matter how much time I spend reading, I needed a diversion.  I was going to go for a bike ride, but I might not have come back--or at least gotten back to the task at hand.  

So, instead of a bike trip, I took a side trip on Google.  

Hmm..So that's what Max does when I'm not home.

And he's famous.  How did I not know?

And he dismounts even more gracefully than I do!

Please, don't tell me that Max and Marlee crashed the tandem:

I don't have a tandem.  But I don't want them to crash anything?

When I fix stuff, Marlee feels the need to inspect:

She says she can't help because--get this--"I don't have opposable thumbs!"

Do all cats use that excuse?

Sometimes I think that if dogs try to please humans, cats try to be as much like humans as possible without actually being human.  I am especially conscious of that when I'm leaving for work on a cold, wet, raw day and see Max and Marlee curled up on the couch.

Now tell me:  Which is the more intelligent species?

No, That Hole Is Not In Your Pants

Many, many years ago, I took chemistry.   Let's just say it wasn't my best subject.  I think I realized as much when I had to memorize the ninety-nine thousand elements of the  periodic table.  ( All right, I was exaggerating just a bit.) I think I remembered about five or six. Then we had an exam in which some of the questions consisted of a single word, which we had to spell with the elements from the table.  One of those words was a synonym for excrement, which of course, is spelled with Sulfur, Hydrogen, Iodine and Titanium.  Oh, right, Titanium is Ti.

It's also not the only element ending in '-ium":  lithium, sodium and potassium are among the best-known.  One thing I learned from working in bike shops, though, is that you shouldn't get all of your education, even in the sciences, from school.  Indeed, in those velocipedic variora, I found out there were other elements besides molybdenum and titanium.  Like "can't-affordium", that mythical material used to make bikes for those who spend more dollars than miles (or even kilometers) on their machines.  And then there was that material that developed holes whenever it was made into bicycle parts.  I am referring, of course, to drillium.

Now, some drillium bits were stylish and, on occasion, even made sense.  Drilling brake levers often improved their grippability:  That, I think, is one reason why Campagnolo and other companies actually made lever blades with holes or slots built into them.  Interestingly, the slotted Campy Record brake levers actually weighed a few grams more than the plain ones.  Someone from Campagnolo explained that the material was actually slightly thicker so that strength wouldn't be compromised. 

While drilling didn't serve any purpose, other than minute weight reduction, on chainrings, I think those are the components that looked best when touched by drill bits.  Some derailleurs also looked good with it, though on some components--like the Huret Jubilee--drilling was impossible and, really, pointless because they were so light. 

Believe it or not, there were also drillium saddles.  I was reminded of them when I came across this photo:

I wonder whether Monsieur Herse punched the holes in that seat.  Or was it made that way?  Back in the '80s, Tioga--the maker of some of the best parts and accessories found on early mountain bikes--offered a seat for BMX that wasn't what most of us would think of as "drillium", but was in the spirit of it.  The "Spyder" seat was very popular on the BMX circuit--and, interestingly, is still made today:

From what I've heard, some cyclists--time trialists, mainly--even took took off the covers and padding of Cinelli Unicanitor seats and drilled out the plastic base.  Of course, most people never saw their handiwork, at least if the padding and leather cover were glued back on.  But a few such cyclists took the plain plastic-shell model (without the padding and cover) and drilled that out.  Hmm...I wonder what it was like to sit on such a thing with unpadded shorts!

I imagine that not even those Unicanitors survived the treatment for very long, which may be the reason why we don't see very many "drillium" or "spyder" seats today!

Is the symbol for "drillium" "Dr"?  Or just "D"?  As I said earlier, it's been a while since I took chemistry!

The Wheels Are Turning...

So...back to my estate-sale find.

A few days ago, I started to mention what I might do about the wheels.  The front wheel that came with the bike was a "goner".  That made me want to build another rear because the wheels that came with it have 27 inch rims and tires.  I haven't used that size in years and no longer have it in any of my spare parts.  I really would like not to buy any new ones.

But the rear wheel is laced to a Phil Wood hub, which I would love to use.  The problem is, it has 48 spokes.  I don't have any rims in that pattern, though I'm sure I could get one--at least in a 700C size, which I probably will use.  However, I think it might be more difficult to find in the 650B size, which I am also considering.

I think I will end up building 700C wheels for a few  reasons.  One is that I have some 700C rims drilled for 36 spokes.  They include Mavic Open Pros and Sun CR-18s.  I would probably use the latter, as I want to use 32C (or possibly even wider) tires and the CR-18 would look more "right" with the other equipment, I think.  Plus, I like to keep the Open Pros (which I bought on sales) as spares for my Mercians.

Another reason why I'm leaning toward 700C is that if I go to 650B, I will definitely need new brakes.  I know I could probably get a good buy on those long-arm Tektros or something else,  so my reluctance to spend money is only somewhat of a factor.  More important, from the measurements I've made and charts I've looked at, even those long Tektros might not have enough reach for 650B.  Remember, the bike was made for 27 inch rims, which are even larger in diameter than 700s, let alone 650s.

Whichever way I go, though, I think I know which hubs I'll use.

Turns out, this rear Sansin Gyromaster is the sealed-bearing model.  From what I understand, it's the one Specialized rebranded for those great touring bikes they made in the early and mid-'80's.  It's also the one SunTour rebranded for one of its groupsets--the Cyclone, I think.





So I know it's a good hub, and appropriate for the bike.  Best of all, the locknut-to-locknut width is 126mm (actually, 127mm according to my calipers):  the width of the dropouts on the bike. It has 36 holes, just like my rims. And it just so happens I opened it up not too long ago and put in some fresh grease.

I'll do the same for this Suzue sealed bearing front hub, which also has 36 holes.  I recall that this hub came as original equipment on some of those nice touring bikes Miyata, Panasonic and other companies were making around the time my Trek was built.  If I'm not mistaken, it also came on some Treks--but not mine.

So, if I use those hubs--which I probably will--I eventually will have to decide what to do with the rear wheel that came with the bike. I suppose I could keep it, though I don't know when I'll use it, as I'll probably never build a tandem or a fully-loaded touring bike with 27 inch wheels.  I suppose I could try to sell it, though the market for a 27 inch wheel of that kind might be kind of limited.  (If someone out there has an old Schwinn Paramount tandem...)  Or I could take the wheel apart and try to sell the hub...and, if anyone wants a vintage Super Champion 58 rim in 27 inch with 48 holes, that, too.

So, in brief, 700 would be the practical choice and 650B would be an experiment.  

Ah, choices...

Does That Thing Have A Heater?

"Do you have a heater on that thing?"

So shouted a random stranger as I rode by.  I simply smiled and winked, though I doubt he saw the latter under my shades.

If I had stopped to talk to him, I might've said something like "This weather brings out my natural glow."  Of course, he wouldn't have known that I might not have a natural glow.  But that'll be our little secret, dear reader.

Anyway, I just had to get out for a ride.  December and May are for college instructors what March and April are for tax accountants.  I feel like I'm in that scene from Fantasia in which the brooms multiply.  The difference is, of course, is that instead of brooms, the papers are reproducing themselves everywhere I turn.  And, although I'm always learning something new (or so I hope), I am not an apprentice.  At least, I'm not considered one.



Back to the ride:  The gentleman who wondered how I could ride in the cold (about -2C or 28F, which is the coldest it's been so far this season) was walking his dog along a block of houses that are more expensive than they seem on the South Shore of Long Island.  I was, again, riding to Point Lookout on a day when about the only people walking along those streets or on the beaches were accompanied by dogs, mostly big ones.

I guess today seems polar to some people because we've had a mild fall:  In fact, I don't think the temperature fell below 5C (40F) before this week.  Interestingly, we had strong winds, sometimes as much as 80KPH (50 MPH) the other day and last weekend.  But today's air was still, which may be the reason why the weather didn't seem cold to me.

It was also probably the reason why, without any unusual effort, I kept a good pace along the flat route.   Interestingly, the only climbs I encounter are near the beginning and near the end of my ride.  Neither are long, but both are fairly steep, or seem so as they seem to erupt from the flat stretches that precede them.

The funny thing about today's ride--which left me invigorated and refreshed after 105 kilometers--was that, as I rode, I saw winter more than I felt it.  I mean, it was a bit colder than it's been and I was wearing more layers than I wore, say, a couple of weeks ago.  And I could feel the chill on my face. But, in spite of the fact that I haven't ridden much during the past couple of weeks, I wasn't feeling the cold or even a nip in the rest of my body and I felt supple, in spite of how little I've ridden during the past couple of weeks. 

The signs of the coming season were in the clouds, in the light of this day, and in the graying waves that receded into the horizon that offered a hint of a distant sunset.

I love riding under this sky, with the first hint of winter, because they are somehow intimate to me in ways that the summer light--as much as I love that, too--is not.  Perhaps it has to do with the fact that so few people are out on a day like this, and those who are--by choice--appreciate the austere beauty of such a day.

The snow that was forecast has begun to fall.  It won't last, and it won't accumulate, at least not in the Five Boroughs.  But the northern suburbs of Westchester and Rockland Counties and Connecticut might get a layer of frosting on the cake while we get a dusting, perhaps a coating.

Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear, does not have a heater, in response to the man's question.  And I'm glad she doesn't.    I wonder, though,  whether this guy (or girl) has a heater:

Who Needs What?

A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.

When I first heard that phrase, it was attributed to Gloria Steinem or Flo Kennedy.  Neither, though, has ever claimed authorship of it. Steinem, however,  once attributed it to Irene Dunn, who in turn says she was paraphrasing Charles Harris, an American psychologist who supposedly wrote "A man without faith is like a fish without a bicycle" in an article he wrote for the Swarthmore College newspaper while he was an undergraduate there during the 1950s.

But even Harris admitted that the expression probably existed long before then.  Indeed, an 1898 editorial in the Hartford Courant, a Connecticut newspaper, opined:

   The place [Aragon, Spain] didn't need an American consul any more than a cow needs a bicycle; for it had no trade with America and no American tourist ever dreamed of stopping there.  

Well, as Groucho Marx said, "You've got a point there.  Now why don't you go and put a hat over it."  I mean, a cow or a fish may not need a bicycle.  But so what?  Who's to say they can't have a bicycle if that's what they want?

Better yet--what if the fish wants to be a bicycle?

From Web Ecoist

What Have We Here? I'm Starting To Find Out

I haven't started to work on my estate-sale find yet.  I have, however begun to rummage through some components I have on hand and order a buy a few things (small parts) I need.

I did, however, begin to do a little research.  According to the serial number on the frame, and the information I found on the Vintage Trek website, my bike is probably a 1982 model.  The serial number pattern fits in with 400 series bikes made from 1980 to 1982, but the presence of a color band on the seat tube points to 1982.  On the other hand, the 412 pictured in the 1982 brochure has brazed-on brake cable guides and water bottle bosses, which my bike does not have.  Perhaps it's a 1981.5 model:  According to the VT website, the highest-priced Treks (Pro and 900 series), started to come with such bands in 1981. (The white bikes with blue panels are particularly nice, to my eye.) That feature "trickled down" to the 700 series bikes in the middle of that year (1981.5).  The 1982 brochures show 500 and 400 series models with it but, according to the website, some of those models came with color bands in late 1981.  

(Mercians, at least those made after 1970, are easier to track:  I had no trouble finding out Vera was made in 1994, as her original owner told me.  And, of course, I know that Arielle, Tosca and Helene are from 2006, 2007 and 2010, resepctively, because I had them custom-made in those years.

OK, so now I know the bike's origins, more or less.  Now I'm starting to learn a bit about the bike's quirks, aside from the ones I've already mentioned.  Actually, it's not a terribly quirky bike, from what I can see:  Threadings and other dimensions are standard, and in design it's much like other bikes of its type made around the same time, though perhaps somewhat better.

One quirk I found is in the componentry:  specifically, the Sakae crankset.  I know that some cranksets of that time were made with the 110 BCD chainring pattern, which is common today--and of which I have a few chainrings on hand.  I was hoping that the SR crankset--which looks rather nice--shared it.

Alas!  If you ever wonder what difference a few millimeters can make, you can see it here.  The black ring that I superimposed on the crank is a 110 made by Stronglight; the rings on the crankset have a slightly bigger bolt circle.  From the measurements I made, and Sheldon Brown's "crib sheet", it seems that the crank has the now-obsolete 118 BCD.  That means, of course, that I could find replacement chainrings only through swap meets and,  with luck, on eBay.

(My surprise is, I'm sure, mild compared to the frustration an owner of a Nervar Star crankset might feel:  Its 128 BCD, as close as it is to the 130 BCD of modern road racing cranks, still precludes interchangeability!) 

The rings on the bike don't seem to have much wear, so I think I'll keep them on for now:  They, and the crankset, look pretty nice.  (From what I can see, the arms are forged.)  The 52 tooth outer ring, standard for the era when the bike was made, is bigger than anything I ride now.  On the other hand, I am using 12 tooth rear cogs with my 46 and 48 tooth chainrings  (and a 17 with the 47 tooth ring on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear):  something that didn't exist at the time the bike was made.  Then, most cyclists rode with freewheels on which the smallest cog had 14 teeth, which is what orignally came with the bike; racers sometimes used 13 tooth cogs.  If I use a freewheel with a 14 tooth cog, my highest gear will still be slightly lower than those of Arielle, Helene and Vera, my geared Mercians.  (Arielle, the road bike, has 48X12, while Helene and Vera have 46X12.)

One thing I have to say about the crank:  The bottom bracket--which, I believe, is the original--turns very smoothly.  I think someone recently overhauled it; still, I might take it apart if, for no other reason, to be sure that it has an intact protector sleeve.

Speaking of smooth bearings:  The headset feels good, but I might clean it anyway, just because I don't know when I'll do it again.  And I have a rear hub that I'm thinking of using.  The Phil that came with the bike is great, but it's 48 hole, and the rim it's laced to is 27 inches--which I'm not going to use, since I don't have a 27 inch front (The one that came with the bike wasn't salvageable.) rim, wheel or tire, and don't want to buy new ones.  The hub I have is pretty nice, though not quite as good as the Phil.

This is going to be an interesting project.  I'll probably start working on it in a couple of weeks, after classes have ended.

What Is A Cyclist's Life Worth? $700 (CDN)? Six Months' Probation?

Yesterday, there appeared in The Globe And Mail an excellent editorial by Toronto-based writer Naomi Buck.  She started with what sounded (to most of her neighbors to the south, anyway) like good news:  a woman who drove a van that struck a pedestrian who was standing on a Toronto sidewalk was convicted of "careless driving".  For that, she got a fine of $1000 and six months' probation.

Had the driver done such a thing here in the States, it's unlikely that she would have been burdened with such a hefty fine or lengthy sentence.  To her credit, she took it upon herself to appear in court:  something that, under Ontario law, is not required of someone so charged.  In most such cases, according to Ms. Buck, the defendant chooses not to appear, leaving the victims' loved ones to read their heartbreaking words to a legal agent rather than the one who took their friend's, sibling's, spouse's, parent's or child's life.   

Had the driver--one Elizabeth Taylor--had her charge upgraded to "dangerous driving", she could have received a ten-year prison sentence if the incident causes bodily harm, and 14 years if it results in death.  However, Patrick Brown, a lawyer who has handled hundreds of cases in which pedestrians or cyclists were killed or critically injured, it's very difficult, at least in an Ontario court, to make a case for "dangerous" driving unless it was a hit-and-run incident or alcohol was involved.

From the San Francisco Municipal Transportation Agency archives.

Still, Ms. Taylor incurred more severe penalties than most drivers who run down cyclists or pedestrians, according to Mr. Brown.  "I actually think most pedestrian cases get dropped entirely," he said.  Three recent cases he litigated involving cyclist fatalities resulted in the drivers being charged with "careless driving" or lesser offenses, and in being fined $700, $600 and $85(!) respectively.

Even those penalties, however, are more than most drivers in the US can expect if they run down cyclists or pedestrians.  Still, the families and friends of cyclists and pedestrians killed by motorists in Toronto have to bear the same burdens as their peers in Montreal, Vancouver, Boston, New York, San Francisco, London, Paris and any number of other cities in this world one can name. 

Their feelings were aptly expressed by the 8-year-old son of Erica Stark, the pedestrian killed by the van Elizabeth Taylor drove.  "I'm mad at the driver," he wrote in a victim impact statement, which his father read in court.

"In a few years, he'll probably be mad at the justice system," Naomi Buck speculates.  "Who could blame him?"

Riding On Paths Through History

During my first European bike tour, I pedaled along la Cote Opale:  the French shore of the English Channel.  It was difficult not to think about all of the wars that ravaged Calais, from Edward III's siege in 1347 to the Nazi invasion of 1940.   But even when I wended along the coast through more bucolic towns like Montreuil-sur-Mer and villages like Neufchatel-Hardelot, it was difficult not to remember that, as the sea lapped on their shores, blood once ran through their streets and mortar shells strafed the air where breezes flickered leaves and flowers.

I got to thinking about that today, on the 75th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor.  I have never been to Hawaii, but I can only imagine what I might feel if I were to ride the Pearl Harbor Bike Path--especially if I were to see this:

Actually, there are sights other than those mothballed warships along the path.  From what I've read, though, it's far from the most scenic bike route on the islands, even if parts of it look pleasant:

What Should You Bring With You On A Ride?

You've just finished a long ride on a hot day.  Or, perhaps, you've been riding up and down hills, or spent the whole day riding into the wind.  Maybe you've been tearing up the turf or slogging through mud.

Now you're some combination of sweaty, dirty and tired. So, you wash up and put on some fresh, clean clothes.  What do you do with the clothes you wore while riding?

Some of you might hand-wash them.  That's what we did back when we wore Sergal or Kucharik wool shorts, jerseys, tights and jackets.  Later on, other companies offered wool clothing that could be machine-washed on the gentle cycle.  Many of the synthetic fabrics that came later could be treated in the same way.

If you are bike-touring, you might not have access to a washing machine.  And, if you hand-wash your vestments in the nearest sink, tub, river or creek, it will take forever for your stuff to dry.  (The "spin" cycle on a washing machine usually extracts much more moisture than most of us can wring out.)  That can be a real problem when you have to re-pack them, or want or need to wear them the following day.

One possible solution to such a dilemma is to bring a washing machine with you.   Then, it doesn't matter whether you sleep in the Hilton Hotel or in the woods:  If you bring a machine with you while cycling, you won't have to worry about whether or not you have access to electricity or any other power source.  Your bicycle becomes--or, more precisely, you become--the power source.

Pretzels, Tacos And Pringles

Pretzel. Taco. Pringle.

What do they have in common?

They're all foods, of course. While most people wouldn't call them "health" or even "healthy" foods, tacos can at least be made to have nutritional value, and pretzels don't have to be white flour concoctions that merely serve as conveyances for salt.  Now, as to whether Pringles can be made so that they have even the pretense of not being unhealthy, I don't know.

So what else do the pretzel, taco and Pringle have in common?  Well, all have been used as descriptors for something that can ruin any cyclist's day.

From The Taco Cleanse

When I first caught "cycling fever" four decades ago, a wheel that was bent and twisted into shapes that even David Smith couldn't have fashioned was said to have been "pretzeled".  (I'm not sure of whether it's spelled with one or two "l"'s. )  The term was even used in print:  I recall seeing it in cycling magazines and books published around that time.

From That's What She Said 

Also around that time, the term "pretzel logic" was often used, perhaps inspired by the popular Steely Dan song:

I still hear that term from time to time.  I can't recall, however, the last time I heard of a "pretzeled" wheel.  Somewhere along the way, that expression gave way to another phrase beginning with an ersatz past-participle adjective (Now why didn't I name my band "The Ersatz Adjectives"?  It couldn't have been any worse than "The Past Participles"?).  You may still be using it:  Taco'ed. 

From Instructables

It's the term I'm still using.  In fact, in a comment on a "Retrogrouch" post, I mentioned that a wheel I rode briefly "spontaneously tacoed" when I was riding one day.  

From Iowa Girl Eats.

Until that day, I didn't know that the Fiamme Ergal rims were prone to crack around the spoke holes--on the inner part of the rim, where the tire is mounted (and glued).   More important, I didn't know that mine were deteriorating in the same way until I inspected the wheel after it folded itself under me.  I soon learned that other cyclists who rode Ergals--which, to this day, remain among the lightest tubular rims ever produced--had similar experiences.  At least I could reassure myself the fate of my rim had nothing to do with my wheelbuilding skills, such as they were. Or from eating too many tacos.  Or pretzels.

From Urban Legends

Or Pringles.  Actually, I haven't eaten many Pringles:  I never really cared for them.  Somehow, though, they seem to be displacing tacos in the lexicon for wheels collapsed beyond all hope of repair.  While it works visually, I think the sounds of "taco" and "pretzel" are more effective at conveying the wreckage.

Isn't it interesting that collapsed wheels are described with food metaphors?  To my knowledge, no other bike-related malady is depicted that way.  I wonder why.

No Fries With That Sandwich. But I'll Take A Bike, Please!

When I was careening thorugh the concrete canyons of Manhattan, making sometimes-questionable deliveries, it was common knowledge (or, at least, a widely-believed urban myth) that if your bike was stolen, you should head to St. Mark's Place.

In those days, before "Alphabet City" and the Lower East Side gentrified, it was common knowledge that you could "buy anything" on St. Mark's.  By "anything", we didn't mean T-shirts, keychains and other overpriced chotchkes made by Chinese prisoners and emblazoned with the "I Heart NY" logo, although you could get those.  Ditto for anything a hippie who might not have even been born when the real hippies were sauntering in their cannabis-addled haze through the neighborhood might want.  For that matter, we weren't even talking about the great pierogis you could get around the corner or the heavenly hammentashen and sumptuous strudels from Moishe's Bakery on Second Avenue.

What we meant was that, in addition to any substance or service someone might want on a Saturday night (or if one is new to town), you could buy all sorts of things that "fell off the truck" or that people "found".  Those items included, of course, bicycles.  

It was said that all of the bicycles used by restaurant delivery workers "came from" St. Mark's.  So, I suspect, did at least a few messengers' bikes.  I know for that bikes were indeed sold there, even though--to my knowledge--no bike shop (or any other kind of retail store that might sell bikes) has ever operated there.  In fact, as I rode there one night, someone crossed into my path with a bike he wanted to sell me. 

Alas, I never found any of my stolen bikes there.  But I knew other messengers, delivery people, commuters and recreational cyclists who did.  In every instance, someone tried to sell their bike back to them--not knowing, of course, that the would-be customer was the person from whom the bike was stolen.   One fellow of my acquaintance claimed that he punched the would-be small-time entrepreneur in the nose and took his bike back.  I'm sure others did the same.

Then, as now, retrieving stolen bikes or going after bike thieves wasn't very high on the NYPD's list of priorities.  Sometimes I wonder whether they know that most people will simply give up if they're not re-united with their bikes within a couple of days...

...let alone a couple of years.  Or more.  Apparently, that is the story of a few people whose bikes ended up at Los Amigos 2, a bodega in Camden NJ.

Camden (NJ) Police Captain Gabriel Camacho, Sergeant Jannel Simpson and Captain Rich Verticelli with bikes recovered from Los Amigos 2.

Police discovered a stockpile of bikes in the shop's basement when responding to, ironically enough, a burglar alarm.  Cops were searching the store for a suspect when they came upon the stash:  91 in all.  Nobody knows how many other bikes passed through.

Now, if you were in St. Mark's in the heyday of punk and New Wave, try to imagine the neighborhood without the band--or without the movie houses it had (It still has one.), coffee shops or even its dive bars.  (Back in the day, you went to a dive bar--or shopped in a thrift shop--because you couldn't afford to go anywhere else:  There was no cachet in doing so.)  Or try to imagine Newark NJ or Richmond CA, without the charm (really!). Then you'll have an idea of what Camden is like.

Like St. Mark's of yore, Camden is a magnet for the drug-addicted , in part because of the treatment facilities and shelters located in their vicinities. Some bring bikes or other items they stole, sometimes far from the neighborhood, to get money for a "fix."  

Some of the bikes recovered from Los Amigos 2

One thing I found interesting is that the bodega was paying less money for bikes--"up to $20", according to a police spokesperson-- than the unscrupulous were paying on St. Mark's more than three decades ago.  I wonder whether that is a signal that the number of desperate or otherwise impaired people who would steal a bike and sell it for a "fix" is so much greater than it was in the St. Mark's of my youth.

Bodegas, like other small grocery stores, are about convenience.  But a bicycle with your sandwich and cerveza?