How A Stolen Bike Became The Gift That Gave Back

By now you know that I have a soft spot for people who, in whatever ways, bring bikes to kids who couldn't otherwise afford them.

Most of the stories I've posted so far are about individuals or organizations who restore old bikes that might otherwise have ended up in a landfill.   Some started out as one-person operations and mushroomed into local non-profit organizations.

Well, today I'm going to tell you about a kid who gave his bike to another kid, and whose family helped out that other kid's family at the holidays.  And there's a particularly interesting "twist" to this story.

Fifty years ago, on Christmas Eve 1967, 18-year-old William Lynn Weaver was walking around in his neighborhood, the Mechanicsville area of Knoxville, Tennessee.  He saw another boy gliding down the street on a bike.  "Boy, that looks like my brother's bike," he thought.

When he got home, he asked his younger brother Wayne whether he knew where his bicycle was.  "It's down on the steps," he replied.  Except that it wasn't.

William Lynn Weaver with his brother in 1963.

Well, Mr. Weaver tracked down the kid who took his brother's bike--to an unlit shack in an alley--and planned to confront the kid.  But his father, who accompanied him, told him,"Just shut up and let me talk."

He knocked on the door.  An elderly man answered.  Inside, the shack was cold and dark, with only a single candle for light.  It turned out that the thief was indeed the old man's grandson.

He and William took the bike and walked home.

The father told the mother, who was cutting a turkey, about the incident.  She said nothing, but packed up some of the food.  Then "my father went to the coal yard and got a bag of coal," William recalls.  Then his father looked at his brother and said, "You've got another bike, don't you?"  The brother nodded, and the three of them returned to the shack with the food, coal and bike.  

The father handed over $20--not an inconsiderable sum in those days--and said, "Merry Christmas."  The man broke down in tears.

William Lynn Weaver today.

As William explains, his family wasn't as badly-off as the boy and man who lived in the shack, but they didn't have much, either.  "My father was a chauffeur, and my mother was a domestic," he explained.  "That Christmas, I don't remember what gift I got, but I do know that [giving to the boy and his grandfather] made me feel better than any Christmas I've ever had."

Ah, the power of a bike...

When Does Size Matter?

If something has two wheels and pedals, and nobody rides it, is it still a bicycle?



What if it's too small for anybody to ride?

I got to thinking about those questions when I saw this sign:

Can something be "extra large" or "jumbo" and still be a shrimp?

One Way The Repeal Of Net Neutrality Affects Us

The other day, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) voted to get rid of "net neutrality", which prevented internet service providers (ISP) from blocking, or drastically slowing the uploads, from other ISPs.

Most people I know who don't own ISPs (OK, I don't know anyone who does!) don't like this.  Most agree that it will lead to poorer-quality service at higher prices and severely impact those who live in areas that have only one ISP.

OK.  So how, you ask, does it afffect cycling?  Well, since I don't use electronic devices while I ride, I couldn't tell you.  I did learn, however, of ways it could affect people in the bike business.

Stephen Ambruzs is one of them.  He recently realized a longtime dream when he opened Downshift, a bicycle cafe with AirBnb lodgings upstairs, in Roanoke, Virginia.

Of course, since so many people, particularly the young, use the internet for everything from answering e-mails to, well, finding information about bike-related stuff and issues, it's easy to see how the repeal of net neutrality would take a bite out of that part of his business.  He points out, however, it would negatively impact his sales of bikes, parts and accessories, as well as his repair business.  

Stephen Ambrusz and employee greet customer at Downshift.

Today, he explains, most people--again, particularly the young--find shops like his by using apps on their "smart" phones.   And he just happens to be in an area that has only one ISP.  Encumbering access to sites that are not part of the ISP might keep some people from finding his shop.

Now, Donald Trump probably wasn't thinking about cycling when he appointed his acolytes to the FCC board. (Actually, he doesn't think much about cycling at all, except to denigrate particular people, like John Kerry, for engaging in it.)  But it seems that almost every one of his actions, or those of his appointees, has been bad for us.

Of course, many other small business owners will be similarly hurt by the repeal of net neutrality.  But, as a cyclist, I have a soft spot for folks like Ambruzs and want to see them succeed.

Angels Across America

One thing I learned about myself early on is that cynicism comes easily, sometimes too easily, for me.  So I try to look for the things that give me realistic hopes about the world.  That's better than waiting for events like Roy No-Moore in Alabama to strike like a sugar rush that, ineveitably, leaves me feeling let-down after the initial euphoria dies down.

Well, today, I didn't have to look far to find good news.  You see, I decided to type "bicycle news" into a Google search bar to see what ideas I could come up for today's post.  And, wouldn't you know it, the first four entries under "news" were about people or programs that were giving bikes to needy kids for Christmas.

Burbank Bike Angels

I have written about such people and programs before.  But I am seeing now that there are even more than I realized, including the Burbank Bike Angels in the Los Angeles area, the Davenport (Iowa) Friendly House--which gives away bikes restored by inmates in the local jail.

Naiomia Jenkins receives a bike at the Davenport Friendly House

I want to make special mention of Ann Mathis in Fayetteville, North Carolina.  Yes, that town has something besides Fort Bragg, although it might be hard to know that sometimes.  (I know; I've been there.)  The people are great, but even in such an environment, someone like Ms. Mathis stands out.

Ann Mathis, with some of "her" kids.

As did her husband, Moses.  For 27 years, he ran an operation that restored bikes and, a few days before Christmas, allowed kids to choose them, without any adults present.  "Moses would turn over in his grave if I had the parents come in here and pick a bike," she explained.  "That is the truth."

She has been running the operation since Moses Mathis died in July of 2013.  When the kids pick a bike, they are given a gift bag to go along with it. Those bags include things like shoes, socks, hats and gloves, which nearly all of the children need, as well as "something educational," according to volunteer Ada Johnson.  Over the years, she estimates, they have given about 17,000 bags.

Another volunteer, Keith Melvin, has been restoring bikes for the past six years.  It isn't always easy, he says, "to make a new bike new" but "we get it done."  All they have to do, he said, is go into their storeroom and "find the parts."

They are part of a community of people who bring Christmas cheer to needy kids. They all are motivated by the delight kids express upon receiving their bikes, and they know that few things can make a kid happier at Christmastime than a new bike--even if that bike didn't come straight from the showroom!

Bike Share Over The Cuckoo's Nest?

I haven't been to Eugene, Oregon.  From what I hear, though, it's developing the sort of reputation Portland had maybe fifteen years ago:  a town of young artists, old and latter-day hippies as well as other free spirits.  And cyclists.

Someone I know described it as "Madison West."

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. After all, the University of Oregon is there.  And, interestingly, several tech startups first saw the light of day there.  So did a certain company launched by a guy who paid a graduate student $35 for her design.

That graduate student was Carolyn Davidson. And the guy who bought her drawing was none other than Phil Knight, the founder of Nike.

Imagine that:  the designer of the Nike "Swoosh" was paid only $35. But, she says, it led to other things that made her quite a bit of money.

Oh, and the author of a certain book that became one of the texts, if you will, of the counterculture--and, later, a much-lauded film--spent much of his life in Eugene.  I am talking about Ken Kesey, who wrote One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest.

So, I am not surprised, really, to find out that Eugene residents anticipate having something Madison has.  Austin, Texas--another town to which Eugene is increasingly compared--also has it.

I'm talking about a bike share program.  A local business owner is working on a plan for it.  Lindsey Harward's newly-formed company, Eugene Bike Share, will offer rides for a couple of dollars a day as well as yearly memberships.  Her current plan calls for 300 bicycles and 30 pick-up/drop-off locations.

While Eugene has only slightly fewer people than Salem, the capital and second-largest city of the Beaver State, it has only about a quarter of the population of the state's largest city, Portland.  So, while it might not be considered a "small" city, few would confuse it with a megalopolis or world capital.  

I find it interesting that the fastest growth in bike share programs is found in second- and third-tier cities like Portland and Madison.  And you could be forgiven for thinking that the bike-share concept is "trickling down" from world capitals and centers like Paris, London and New York.

The irony is that, as I learned recently, a city with about half of Eugene's population (though on a quarter as much land-area) had the first known bike-share program.  In 1976, La Rochelle, a lovely town on the French Atlantic (Bay of Biscay) coast, launched its fleet of velos jaunes for use by the public.  The current incarnation of the program is called Yelo and still uses, yes, yellow bicycles!

Hmm...I wonder what color Eugene's share bikes will be.

Whenever They Drain The Canal...

I remember hearing about it when I was in Paris last year:  the Canal St. Martin was drained.

Even before the neighborhoods lining it became fashionable, I enjoyed walking along its banks, or cycling the streets that ran alongside it.  The old houses and industrial buildings that stand beside it made it seem more like the Paris of my imagination than the sites along the Seine did.

The canal connects the Seine with the Canal de l'Ourcq, which in turn connects with the Marne River north of the city.  From what I understand, St. Martin is drained every fifteen years or so.  I've often thought the detritus found at the bottom could tell some interesting stories.

It was drained in January of last year and, the last time before that, in 2001.  As the millenium began, the 10th Arrondissement--through which much of the canal runs--was in its transition from a working-class neighborhood to an area full of some of the most interesting galleries and trendiest cafes in the City of Light.  (Indeed, it was this area that suffered the November 2015 terrorist attacks.)


In this country, we call it "gentrification."  But to the folks who cleaned out the canal, it meant more and different kinds of refuse.

As for "different kinds", you only have to think of one thing that Paris had by 2016 but not in 2001:

Unfortunately, in the early days of Velib--Paris' bicycle share program--a number of the bikes were stolen.  Guess where they ended up?

Now, bicycles have been dumped in the canal probably since, well, there were bicycles in Paris.  So have motorbikes, house furnishings and even an old camera or two.  But if some archaeologist or historian were to study St. Martin's detritus, what would they learn from finding Velib bikes?

Probably the same things they'd learn from comparing the wine bottles tossed into the canal in one period with those of another.    One thing is for sure: You don't see any of it in Amelie or any of Alfred Sisley's paintings!

In Delhi: Getting People To Ride Before It's Too Late

Delhi, like other major cities in developing countries, has an air pollution problem that some are calling a crisis. It's so bad that international players on the cricket field wear masks.

While political parties are playing the "blame game", more than a few people realize that some things must change.  Akash Gupta, the founder of Mobycy--which claims to be India's first dockless bicycle sharing startup system--tells of a report he recently read, which indicated that one of the reasons why people drive or take cabs to work or school is the problem they have with "last mile connectivity".  People can take public transportation, but to actually reach their destinations, they must make switches of transport.  And, the closer they come to their destination, the more likely it is that they will need to switch--whether from one bus line to another or to another mode of transportation entirely.

So, Gupta says, bicycling can offer a solution.  "Cycles should become a norm," he explains, "because they are easy to ride, quick to find, don't let you become dependent on someone else and are also cost effective."  That last point is not lost on businesses, who are finding that making deliveries by bike or e-bike is more effective--because it's faster--in dense city traffic.  

Even as bike share programs and delivery bicycles are becoming more common, and increasing numbers of people are riding for recreation, getting people to trade pistons for pedals in their daily commute has been a difficult task for city planners.  The biggest obstacle for most people is the motorized traffic that planners are trying to reduce.  Many people in Delhi echo a familiar refrain heard in cities all over the globe:  They don't feel safe riding among the cars, trucks and other motorized vehicles--or, more to the point, drivers.   

To that end, bike lanes and other physical infrastructure are being built.  But, as studies have shown, lanes by themselves don't do much to increase the number of bicycle commuters, or cyclists overall.  Vishala Reddy seems to recognize as much.  The founder and Director of Identcity has been behind many projects, such as car-free Tuesdays, to promote cycling during the past decade.  But she says that the real infrastructure consists of attitudes and incentives.  About the former, she says that more respect has to be developed for cyclists on the road.  As for the latter, she believes offices and other workplaces could offer them--and physical infrastructure, such as parking facilities, for cyclists.

Cyclists in Delhi

She and Gupta, unlike too many involved with planning in American cities, recognize that making cycling more appealing and safe is not just something that will make hipsters happy. They understand that their city's economic well-being--and, indeed, its very survival, as well as that of the planet--hinge at least in part on getting people's feet off gas pedals and onto bicycle pedals.  As Gupta warns, "If we don't start using e-vehicles or cycles now, it will be too late."

Back When I Weighed Less, There Was Weyless!

Someone--I forget who--told me that you know you're middle-aged when you see all the young people wearing something and you remember the last time it was in fashion.   

Another definition I've heard for "middle age" is when young people wear what you wore in your youth and call it "retro" or "vintage".

And I started my gender transition just in time for my middle age!

I found myself thinking about such things when I came across this in an eBay listing:

The fact that they're water bottle cage clips alone earns them the label of "retro" or "vintage":  Most new bikes (and a lot of not-so-new ones) have bottle cage mounts brazed on, or otherwise integrated into, the frame; thus, most new cages are designed to be used with them.  The few new cages that are made for bikes that don't have built-in mounts are likely to have some sort of mounting system built into them, or come with straps.

When I first became a dedicated cyclist, some four decades ago, few frames--even at the highest quality and price levels--came with water bottle mounts.  Gradually, they began to appear on top-tier racing and touring bikes and trickled down to bikes in the lower price ranges.  Still, most cages--like the classic Specialites TA and REG models-- came with clamps, even if they were designed to be used with braze-ons.

The Weyless bottle cage, however, was designed to be used with the clips shown.  It did not fit on braze-on mounts.  Even though it was, even with its clamps, one of the lightest cages available (It claimed to be the lightest), it sank like a stone in the cycling marketplace of the late '70s.  That was just about the time high-level racing and touring bikes started to come with braze-ons. Within a few years, that feature would be found on bikes at all price levels.

But there's something else that makes those Weyless bottle clamps "retro." It's a trait shared with another Weyless part:

Yes, they both got that treatment called "drillium".  If you look at racing photos from that period, most bikes had drilled-out brake levers; sometimes chainrings and other parts also had holes in them.  Sometimes it looked silly, but I rather like the way it was done on the brake cable clip in the above photo:  The holes are bigger in the wider part of the clip, near the top, and taper down as the clip narrows toward the mounting screw.

I can remember when Velo Orange and other companies started to offer "drillium" parts about a decade or so ago. I couldn't help but to think back to my early days as a cyclist, when I so wanted one of those racing bikes with drilled-out Campagnolo parts!

Today, almost anyone who buys "drillium" parts or accessories--whether they're vintage or modern-production--is trying to achieve some sort of "retro" look.  The same can't be said, however, about everyone who bought something with the Weyless name on it.

How's that?, you ask.  Well, the company that made those Weyless bottle cages and clips--as well as some of the lightest seatposts, pedals and hubs ever produced--went out of business some time during the late '70's.  Depending on who you believe, its demise was a result of the '70's Bike Boom ending, founder Lester Tabb's shady business dealings or the warranty claims that resulted after it started a line of bike clothing made from wool that wasn't supposed to shrink--and, of course, it did.

I am guessing that the copyright on the name "Weyless" had expired when, during the '90's, Southern California-based mail-order (and, later, online) retailer Supergo used the name for their line of bikes and parts.  I never used any of them myself, but from what I've read and heard, they were made in the same factories, and to almost the same specs, as bikes, parts and accessories from better-known brands, at a lower price.   And most of the riders who used them seemed satisfied with them.

The funny thing is that most folks who bought Supergo's Weyless stuff had probably never heard of the earlier incarnation of the Weyless brand. That is because most of Supergo's Weyless offerings were for mountain biking, in which most of the riders were (and are) younger than those in road cycling.  Most of them weren't even born--or were drinking out of baby bottles rather than Weyless bottles--when the original Weyless parts and accessories were produced!

It's also likely that those young riders didn't know that Supergo, at the time the original Weyless brand was on the market, was known as Bikecology, one of the first large mail-order bike retailers spawned in the '70's Bike Boom!

Hmm...If I'd called this blog "Bikecology", I wonder how many readers would have gotten it.  Perhaps I could have had a contest and the first person to identify it would get some original Weyless part.  The only problem would have been that I didn't, and don't, have any!

Note:  Supergo was bought out by Performance (who else?) in 2003.

Shopping, The Right Way

Not so many years ago, stores posted signs reminding customers of how many "shopping days" remained until Christmas.  After today, twelve days would have remained, as Sundays weren't counted. 

I never see or hear the term "shopping days" anymore. I guess e-commerce has rendered that concept obsolete, as one can buy at any time an app is working.

But some of us still like to shop the old-fashioned way:

Hmm...Maybe he needs to look into getting a bike like this:

Ride Before The Storm

It's here.  

I'm talking about the snow.  Ever since the middle of the week, the weather forecasters said we'd get the white stuff this weekend.  Well, they were right on target:  Flurries that fluttered down early this morning have turned into big, puffy flakes.  I don't know how much will accumulate, or stay, but everything looks like someone opened up a big box of confectioner's sugar and sprinkled it.

Good thing I went for a ride yesterday--specifically, the ride I took.  Although you could have guessed that snow was coming even if you hadn't heard the forecasts, there was no threat of it yesterday. Nor was there a hint of sun:  The overcast sky spread a blanket of that particular kind of gray seen just when late autumn is turning into winter--and the pyres of fallen leaves are flickering their last embers of color.

I tried to get those colors and that light without becoming a road pancake.  Oh well.  At least I managed to capture, I think, the you-wouldn't-know-it-was-the-Bronx-unless-you-were-there feel of that scene.

Anyway, at that point I was about a quarter of the way to what would be my destination:  

You guessed it--Greenwich, Connecticut.  That's the Town Hall, across from where I sat and consumed some dark chocolate and nuts.

Trusty Arielle, my Mercian Audax, got me there and back.  She seemed particularly quick and comfortable today.  Perhaps I was simply enjoying my last-chance-before-the-storm ride.  

So what am I doing today (besides writing this post)?  Reading some students' papers, and making some beet soup.  And enjoying yesterday's ride.

Meeting The Urban Adventurer

Even as a writer, writing for so many years, I still sometimes find it odd that I have relationships with people that are formed entirely by words.  I even find it a bit unusual that I can have a connection with someone through images as well as words.

Those, of course, are the sorts of links one develops through blogs and other social media.  I have interacted with some of you through exchanges of comments on my posts. I have communicated with some of you through e-mail, and have even talked with a few of you by phone.  But, to date, I've met even fewer of you in person.

Well, two weeks ago, I finally came face to face with someone whose blog I've been reading for years--in its iterations on Blogspot as well as Word Press--and with whom I've corresponded by e-mail and post cards.  That last part is particularly interesting, as he created some of the cards himself.

I am referring to Shawn Granton, the author/artist of Urban Adventure League and the eponymous organization dedicated to human-powered explorations of the urban environment.  "Human-powered", of course, encompasses a number of modes, including feet and public transport, though Shawn's primary--and favored--means of travel seems to be the bicycle.

After work, I hopped on my bike and pedaled down to Oren's Daily Roast, a couple of blocks from the Metropolitan Museum. (Oren's costs a bit more than Starbucks but is worth it, both for the coffee and the relatively intimate atmosphere.)  We didn't have much time together, as he was trying to fit visits to a number of friends and relatives across several cities and states into a weeklong East Coast trip.  The time, however, was satisfying, as I felt no need for preambles.  Though I had never before seen his face, I felt that I already knew him at least somewhat, and that it felt a bit more like a reunion, however brief, of old buddies rather than an introduction.  That may be as much a testament to Shawn's easygoing personality as it is to anything else.

I wish only that we could have ridden together.  Perhaps another time...when he comes here again...or when I go to Portland?

 

From Pearl Harbor...To Rinko?

A cliche about modern history is that World War II "changed everything".  But I have found it interesting to look at some of the specific ways the arts, culture, technology and politics were affected in the US and other countries.

On this date two years ago, I wrote about how the attack on Pearl Harbor transformed bicycles in this country.  On the day of the attack, the average American bicycle weighed 57 pounds (26 kilos)!  The US Government decreed that bicycles be made lighter, both to save on materials (rationing had begun) and so that they would be more nimble for use on the front lines. Not many bicycles were available to the general public, and production of children's bicycles ceased altogether.  

Those few people who were able to buy those lighter bike preferred them to the older, heavier ones.  So did the troops who had the newly-redesigned bikes--and who saw, and in some cases brought home, still lighter bikes from the places in which they fought.  (Yes, even with their changes in design, American wartime bikes were heavier than even the English three-speeds, French ballon-tired bikes or Dutch city machines!)  Ever since, no American company has made bikes--except those for industrial purposes--as heavy as the ones made before the war.  And no American who is not a collector has bought anything like those old behemoths.

Still, even with all of the bicycles that were made for them, the US Armed Forces didn't use nearly as many bicycles as their counterparts from both their allies and enemy countries.  In fact, Americans didn't use bikes on the front lines at all, while British forces made some use of them in that capacity.  On the other hand, "It was probably the Japanese who used the bicycle most during WW II," according to Bicycle Technology co-author Robert van der Plas.  "The invasion of Malaysia, with thousands of soldiers rolling into Singapore on bicycles, is one of the best-known instances," he adds.  

During the war, according to van der Plas, the Japanese used folding bikes designed specifically for warfare.  Some were later re-purposed for civilian use.  In reading about that, I couldn't help but to think about Rinko, the Japanese way of packing bikes for train travel.

  

While there is not a Rinko-specific bike, and a bike doesn't have to be foldable or collapsible in order to fit into a Rinko bag, it's hard to think of a system that is more tailored to making bikes more transportable and usable in places where space is at a premium and bikes need to be transported quickly and easily.  Fenders, pedals and other parts are made easily detachable (and retachable) so that the whole bike fits in a bag not much larger than the frame.

I can't help but to wonder whether such a system might be, directly or indirectly, a development of the war.

How A More Accurate "Bicycle Census" Could Save Lives

There are a number of reasons why too many bike infrastructure projects--including any number of bike lanes I've ridden--do little or nothing to make cycling safer or more convenient.  If anything, some of those projects--including lanes that lead cyclists straight into the path of turning vehicles or merging traffic--put cyclists in more danger than they'd experience if they rode in traffic.

One reason why so many bike infrastructure projects are ill-conceived, -planned or -executed is that, too often, planners have an inaccurate idea--or no idea at all--of how many cyclists are riding along a particular route or at a given time.  As often as not, planners have only a rough guesstimate of how many people ride per day, month or year.

One reason for that is the planners' methods and equipment for gathering data are designed to give accurate counts of motorized, but not cycling or pedestrian, traffic.  That is at least somewhat understandable:  After all, cars, trucks and buses are easier to detect, whether by humans or devices, than cyclists or pedestrians.  Also, most planners are educated and trained to collect, and pay attention to, "big data"--and their experience reinforces that bias.

"Little data", if you will, is especially relevant in regards to cycling because cyclists--whether they're riding to work, or for fitness or pleasure--take a greater variety of routes and have a wider range of destinations than most drivers.  While one can find clusters of cyclists in certain parts of a city, and along certain routes and certain times, those of us who pedal aren't clustered to the same degree as those who go where they want or must by putting a foot on the gas pedal.

Some researchers in Texas are  aware of what I am describing.  They are working on a pilot program, backed by the Texas Department of Transportation, to find more "nuanced data", in the words of Greg Griffin, about cycling and walking in Austin and Houston.   

The goal, says Griffin, is to better inform, among other things, Austin's corridor project, which will build lanes along nine roads.   That project received funding from the mobility bond Texas voters chose last year, but the City Council hasn't approved construction plans.  A draft of those plans is expected to go before the City Council next year and Griffin, a Texas A&M researcher, hopes to better inform the project and others like it.

He and other researchers are trying a number of methods to count cyclists, such as gathering data from Strava and other apps.  Of course, not all cyclists use them, so Griffin and his team are also installing pneumatic tubes similar to the ones used to count cars along roads frequently used by cyclists.  Those tubes, however, last only a few weeks, so he is trying to have permanent counters installed and recruiting cyclists and others to interview cyclists about their riding habits.

A variety of methods must be used, he says, because using only one would skew the results toward one type of cyclist over another.  For example, merely taking data from apps, he says, would result in "planning for people that are buying apps--instead of your community."

 He and others hope that better methods of taking a cycling census, if you will, will help to lay a "foundation for being able to save lives through infrastructure changes."

Bikes For Kids In "Bike City"

All right, I'll admit it:  the culture snob that is moi might actually look at It's A Wonderful Life.  Again.

You see, inside the heart of this fan of Mizoguchi (especially Osaka Elegy) and John Coltrane is someone not above a little sentimentality and a happy ending or two every now and again. 

Anyway...If you've been reading this blog, you've probably noticed that I like telling stories of folks who get bikes to kids who might not otherwise get them, especially during the holiday season.  What's not to like about a kid riding a bike for the first time?

That is the experience 400 kids in Portland, Oregon had the other day.  Their "Santa Claus", if you will, is the city's nonprofit Community Cycling Center.  Since 1995, the program has provided over 10,000 bicycles to children from lower-income families.

It's not hard to understand why someone would volunteer for such a project.  "Everyone can remember the joy of their first bike and the feeling of being on a bike as a kid and the excitement and freedom and joy that comes with it," says Kassandra Griffin, who works with the Center.  And other organizations, including Trauma Nurses Talk Tough, aid the Center's efforts.   

The Nurses provided helmets for the children who received bikes.  Like other volunteers, they are motivated by the sense of community their work provides and seeing the delight of kids--who are given safety lessons--taking their first rides.  "I've been an emergency nurse for 12 years," said Geri Gartz, "and...this is one of the best experiences I've had in my career."  

What's not to like about seeing a girl like Nolia Okada getting a pink bike, especially when her family "couldn't afford" it, according to her mother Momo Okada.  "She's going to practice and we can be riding together."

Could this be the beginning--or, at least, part of--a wonderful life?  One can hope.  

A Reunion, A Ride Into The Sunset--And Congee

So, it looks like my "meeting in Kool Orange" might be turning into a friendship.  Or, at least, a cycle-buddy relationship.

Yes, Bill and I went for a ride the other day.  He was on his Kool Orange Schwinn Sports Tourer from 1971, and I pedaled my 1981 Trek 412.  

I know:  I have to post a photo of it on my sidebar, with my other bikes.  I've had it almost a year now.  It's still a work in progress, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to keep it--even after I get the Mercian Vincitore Special I've ordered!

Anyway, Bill--who said he'd been feeling a bit under the weather--was moving at a rather sprightly pace through the backstreets of industrial Brooklyn when we chanced upon a shop in Bushwick.

"Can I help you."

"No, just want to take a look. Any shop with two Bob Jacksons looks promising."

Those bikes were, as it turned out, an entree, an appetizer or whatever you want to call it.  Haven Cycles has quite the selection of vintage bikes:  I noticed, among other bikes, a classic Raleigh Competition, a Schwinn Paramount track bike and a Serotta track bike equipped with Shimano's 10-pitch gearing and gold-anodized Super Champion Arc en Ciel tubular rims.  There was even a Raleigh ten-speed made for the British market (it had the lamp holder brazed to the front fork) and the usual selection of ten- and twelve-speed bikes converted to single-speed city machines--including a lovely metallic lavender Motobecane.

I was especially taken with the Bob Jackson of Robin, the co-owner, who outfitted the bike with Surly's best rear rack, a White Industries triple crankset, Phil Wood hubs and, of course, a Chris King headset.  The frame was intended for loaded touring, and that's how Robin equipped it.

Anyway, she left a comment on my post from the other day, describing an incident later that day that bore too much similarity to the ones I described in that post.  She and co-owner Jon were, fortunately, able to re-unite a stolen bike with its rightful owner a year after it went missing.

After our visit, Bill and I continued riding through back streets of Brooklyn and Queens on a chilly but beautiful late fall-verging-into-early winter day.  He--a photographer--commented that the day's light, as lovely as it was, looked more like early winter.  I agreed and couldn't help but to notice that the day definitely felt like winter once we started crossing the bridges over Jamaica Bay into the Rockaways and back into Brooklyn, near Floyd Bennett Field.

Yes, we rode into the sunset.  Please don't read too much into that:  We rode into the sunset, but not off into the sunset!

Anyway, after that, we rode to his place and he introduced me to King's Kitchen, one of the many Chinese restaurants in his neighborhood: in Sunset Park, right next to the namesake park and a few blocks from Maimonidies Hospital and a point where Asian, Hispanic and Hasidic communities converge.

Few things warm the bones after a cold ride like a bowl of congee!  In all, it was a day of happy endings, wouldn't you say?

Sticks, Stones and Old Inner Tubes

You've heard the expression, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me!"

You haven't?

Well, this post is proof.

Hmm...Maybe the "sticks and stones" should be changed to "rims and spokes".  But they don't break people's bones--unless, of course, they fail and said people crash as a result.

Anyway, here's a whip made from inner tubes:

Of course, one has to be appropriately dressed.  So here's another way to use those old inner tubes:

And your chains can be turned to faithful friends who will stand guard:

I hope you're enjoying the weekend!