My First View, From A Bike

Yesterday I rode Zebbie, my 1984 Mercian King of Mercia, through the brownstones and rowhouses of Queens and Brooklyn.  Such a ride could easily involve a trip across the Kosciuszko Bridge, now that it has one of the better bike-pedestrian lanes in this city.

And so it was yesterday.  Tourists on Citibikes almost always ride across the Brooklyn Bridge for the views.  But no longtime New York resident does that.  Rather, in-the-know Big Apple cyclists opt for the Williamsburg Bridge or, if we simply want a visually interesting ride, the Kosciuszko.

In the spring and summer, the view consists mainly of skyscrapers foregrounded by trees and the factories and warehouses along Newtown Creek.  But the denuded limbs of winter reveal a landscape of differing verticalities. (Does that sound like a geeky phrase or what?)

When I lived in Manhattan and Brooklyn, one of my worst fears was--moving to Queens.  Mind you, I took many good rides, and enjoyed other activities, in "the world's borough."  But my first glimpse of it came from my family's car, en route to visit relatives:

Tell me, how would you feel about a place if the first thing you saw in it was a cemetery?  I'm guessing that I probably saw it for the first time on a winter day like yesterday, with leafless trees screening, but not shielding, the tombstones.  

But I did eventually move to Queens--to Long Island City, not far from where I live now.  Since then, I've visited Calvary Cemetery.  I know that there are tours of some of this city's necropoli, like Greenwood and Woodlawn.  Anyone who has a taste for such things (which I do, sometimes) should also go to Calvary.  Largely before of it, there are--wait for it--more dead than living people in Queens. (Thomas Wolfe once claimed, "Only the dead know Brooklyn."  What would he have said about Queens?)  In fact, more people are buried in Calvary than in any other American cemetery--or than live in Chicago!

Like Greenwood and Woodlawn, Calvary is the final resting place for some famous and infamous people, as well as everyday New Yorkers.  Also in common with them, Calvary began after the 1840s cholera epidemic: At that time, most of Queens and the farther reaches of Brooklyn and the Bronx (the locations of Greenwood and Woodlawn, respectively) were rural. And there wasn't enough room left in Manhattan to bury the victims of that epidemic, so the city mandated that they be interred elsewhere. 

All of those cemeteries have chapels large enough for masses or services.  But Calvary has a full-blown cathedral (not visible in these photos) at least somewhat reminiscent of the Sacre Coeur in Paris.

It's ironic that those same trees I saw yesterday obscure the tombstones in spring and summer.  Could their lush leafage during those seasons be nourished by the "residents" of Calvary?

It's All On My Head

If you are my age or older, you may have ridden with a "leather hairnet."  Similar to the headgear worn by US football players until the 1950s, they were a lattice of foam-filled straps that might have prevented a scrape or two in a minor crash but probably were useless in a headlong fall or impact with a motor vehicle.

I had one such helmet in my youth. (Yes, believe it or not, I had one of those.) But I never wore it because it was too cumbersome and hot.  I had those same complaints when I first started wearing a hardhat--  a later-version Bell "turtle shell" nearly four decades ago--but have covered my head while riding ever since.

My "hairnet" disappeared into the mists of history. Actually, I think I lost it during a move.  I got to thinking about it when I came across this:

Why Does One Steal For Three?

 I've been told, by people who have worked in it, that the art business can be as shady as any other.  Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised:  It's a world of secrecy with very little regulation.  And, as with real estate, stocks or anything else that's bought and sold, paintings, sculptures and other created objects sell for, essentially, whatever people are willing to pay for them, which leads to all sorts of unethical behavior.

Still, I have trouble imaging that anyone has ever said, with a straight face, "Psst!  Wanna buy a Monet?"  I don't know whether I'd laugh or call the police if I were to hear that.

That is the reason why I don't understand art theft--or theft of anything but basic necessities, and then only by desperate, destitute people. (Mind you, I don't condone any sort of pilferage:  I simply can better understand the motives of a person who's simply trying to survive or feed his or her family.)  After all, what do you do with Rembrandt's Storm on the Sea of Galilee? Or Van Gogh's Poppy Flowers? Or Cezanne's Boy In A Red Vest?  Hang them on your wall and invite your friends over for dinner?  I mean, if you were to try to sell those paintings to anyone who recognized them, they'd know that it was fake or stolen.  You can't make it "go stealth" the way you can with, say, a contraband high-end watch.

So it is with unusual bicycles.  Most bike thieves want to sell the bikes or their parts, so they steal stuff that's valuable but common. (That makes even more sense when you realize that for several years running, the most-stolen car was the Toyota Camry.)  I would think that it's more difficult to unload a tandem, especially a high-end one.  And I would expect that a bicycle built for three (which was misidentified as a tandem in the article in which I learned about its theft) would be even trickier to sell, "chop shop" or simply disappear. How many triplet fames have you seen?

The Rumseys.  Courtesy: Salt Lake City Police Department

Fortunately for the Rumsey family of Houston, it didn't take long for their three-seater to be recovered after it was stolen in Salt Lake City.  They commissioned the bike 18 years old, not only so Dave and Merle could pedal with Ford, their 36-year-old son with Down's Syndrome, but also so it could travel with them.  The bike can be disassembled to fit into a suitcase and has therefore accompanied the family on every trip they've taken.

So, as you can imagine, the bike entwines all sorts of memories with its usefulness to the family.  That is the reason why they were so glad it was returned to them.  And perhaps it was a good thing that the bike is unlike almost any other.  The Salt Lake Police didn't say whether they'd caught the thief. If they hadn't, perhaps he realized it would be too difficult to sell or otherwise unload and abandoned it. What would he have done with a Picasso or a Caravaggio?

What If He'd Stayed?

Yesterday, I wrote about an effort to make Austin, Texas more bike- and pedestrian-friendly. I haven't been there, but if it's anything like the parts of the Lone Star State I've seen, the complaints of its cyclists and pedestrians don't surprise me:  Even Houston, its biggest city (and the fourth-largest in the US) can seem like an expanse of auto-centric suburban sprawl, especially if you're accustomed to a city like mine (New York), Boston, San Francisco or most major European burgs, bourgs or bergs.

Then again, I have to admit I was a little bit surprised that, from what I was reading, bike lanes and sidewalks are so poorly conceived, designed or maintained--or nonexistent outside central parts of the city.  After all, during the past three decades, many young, educated people--the ones who, during the same period, were most likely to become recreational or commuting cyclists--moved to the Lone Star Capital.  And it has a major university, which usually is enough to ensure a significant number of cyclists.

Today I was reminded of another reason why one might expect Austin to be a better place for cyclists.  Now, I know that almost anything that happened more than two years ago seems as distant as the Mesopotamian civilization but, believe it or not, three decades ago isn't so long in, as Doctor King said, the long arc of history.  

Just as there was indeed a time before COVID-19, there was also a time when Lance Armstrong was a kind of "golden boy."  He had just won the World Championship and was seen as an heir apparent to Greg LeMond and the generation of American riders who put their country on the sport's map for the first time in decades.

Well, back then, Lance lived in Austin. Professional cyclists are like other professional athletes in that they aren't "working" only when involved in a race, game or match.  Having been a racer for very brief time in my life, I know that in order to be competitive, you have to pedal for a few hours every day.  It's really as much of a commitment as going to the office, factory, school or wherever you make your living or forge your identity.  In addition, most cyclists, as well as other athletes, spend considerable amounts of time in other kinds of conditioning, such as running or weight-lifting.

Photo by Jeff Wilson for Texas Monthly

But one would think that with all of the cycling Lance--and, most likely, others--were doing, the city would have been more conscious of their needs.  You see, not only was he seen as a "rising star;" he had yet to be tainted by accusations of drug use.  In fact, he may not have been using any banned substances (at least, not in detectable quantities) in those days, before his cancer diagnosis. If you look at pre-illness photos of him and compare them to images of him after he returned to the sport, it's not difficult to believe as much.

Anyway, I couldn't help but to wonder whether Lance, had he retained his status, could have made a difference in hometown's cycle and pedestrian infrastructure.  Maybe he could have.  Then again, maybe he couldn't have:  After all, aside from people who bought Trek bicycles in the US Postal Service Team colors, I'm not sure he influenced much else. 

Still, it makes me feel old to think there was a time before COVID-19--and when Lance was revered.  

Mapping What’s Missing

 

From the City of Austin 

My first time in Paris, so many things impressed me.  Among them were, of course, the food and the architecture—and that an entire street—l’Avenue de la Grande Armeé —was lined with boutiques of every major French bike maker and a couple of étrangers like Raleigh.  

And the city’s Métro system seemed like a fleet of high-tech yachts compared to the only such system—New York’s—I knew at the time. The feature that seemed most other-worldly, though, was the interactive route maps in the major stations like Châtelet-Les Halles.  Three decades before GPS, it was about as high-tech as urban subterranean navigation got: You pointed your finger to the name of a street or landmark and a string of lights marked the route and transfer (correspondance) points.

Now the city of Austin, Texas has something that reminds me of that old Paris map. The city’s Public Works and Transportation Departments have collaborated to create the ATX Walk Bike Roll to solicit ideas for improvements to the Lone Star capital’s bike and pedestrian infrastructure. To that end, they’ve designed an interactive map where residents can drop a “pin” wherever they find, say,  “hilariously narrow “ or non-existent sidewalks or bike lanes that are more like “obstacle courses.”

If we had such a map here in New York, I—or any regular cyclist—alone could fill it.  And to think this city is better than others in the US—including, possibly, Austin—for pedestrians and cyclists!

Extending The Day, And The Season

 Yesterday I went for a late afternoon ride and noticed that, among other things, late afternoon is stretching later into the day.  I shouldn’t have been surprised:  Almost a month has passed since the Winter Solstice.

Something else I noticed also shouldn’t have surprised me, but did: It seems that Christmas decorations have remained on homes and businesses, and in public places, for longer than in any other year I can recall.  I’m sure it has to do with the fact that nearly two years have passed since the COVID-19 pandemic arrived here.  Some people, like health care workers, are tired in body; many more, I am sure, are fatigued in spirit.  Perhaps putting up those decorations, or simply trying to muster up some cheer, sapped them. 

Or they may simply want to cling to whatever flickerings of joy that are illuminating days that, while lengthening, are still followed by long nights.

I suspect that such is the story of the Toufous family, who gives our neighborhood one of the best and most extravagant holiday displays I’ve ever seen:

They’ve put on a great show for years,  But I think they outdid themselves to honor the memory of a family member.

They, like so many people, have endured so much during the past year.  If they want to leave that display up all year, even if only to make themselves feel better, I’m all for it!

Food, Fashion And...Bike Lanes?

This post will be a tale of two cities--without the capital letters. 

They have roughly the same population.  One is the capital of its nation; the other is, at least in some senses, in its country.  They could be said to be rivals because they are renowned for many of the same things:  food, fashion, finance, the arts, education and technology.

Now one of those cities is not only wants to emulate something the other has been doing; it plans to do even more of it.

I am talking about urban bike lane networks.  While Copenhagen and Amsterdam are seen, perhaps rightly, as the most bike-friendly capitals in Europe, Paris is leading the way in creating new bike infrastructure.  It plans to have 680 kilometers (423 miles) of bike lanes in the City of Light and its surrounding areas.  

Rental Bikes by the Duomo Cathedral, Milan.  Photo by Alessia Pierdomenico for Bloomberg

Well, in the city's chief rival for food and fashion--Milan--the City Council has approved a plan that will include 750 kilometers (466 miles) of lanes that will connect not only major areas of the immediate city, but also its suburbs and some rural areas.  The goal of the Cambio Biciplan is to make bicycling the "first and easiest" way of getting around Metropolitan Milan.

One of the motivations for this plan is a problem the city is trying to tackle.  Among Italian cities, only Turin has worse air pollution; both have some of the worst air quality in Europe.  The factors contributing to that toxicity are similar in both cities: population density, industrial activity and automobile density.  That pollution intensifies in winter, when temperature inversions trap pollutants in the lower atmosphere, leaving a toxic blanket of smog.  Also, I suspect that each of those cities shares a problem with Denver: the mountains that surround (Turin) or abut (Milan) those cities also trap some of the pollutants. (Denver consistently has some of the worst air quality in the US.)

So, in the near future, bike advocacy groups may well emulate fashion and culinary institutions in seeing their "capitals" as New York, Paris and Milan!

What Would Dr. King Think Of Cheap Bikes Or Rich Riders?

Last week, I wrote two posts that might indicate a future direction for this blog.  (Don't worry, I'll still write about my rides, bikes and all things related to them!) One post, about a German study, discussed who is becoming a new cyclist, and why.  The other discussed a mechanics' petition calling for repairable bicycles:  Turns out, most of the new cheap bikes, which are usually the ones bought by people with limited funds, have faultily-designed frames made from shoddy materials and are equipped with proprietary parts that break easily or wear out quickly.  

In brief, those new cyclists on nice new bikes bought in Cannondale, Giant, Specialized or Trek showrooms are mainly people with advanced educations who live in fashionable or gentrifying urban areas.  They might be riding to work or school, or simply for exercise and, as often as not, they are signaling that they care about their health and/or the environment. In other words, they are cycling by choice.

On the other hand, folks buying the cheap bikes, if they're not cycling for the first time in decades and therefore don't want to spend a lot of money,  are buying that big-box special in a big box because they can't afford anything else, including a bus or train pass--if indeed there is a bus or train that will get them from wherever they sleep to wherever they work.

One of the sad ironies--following the logic of the German study--is that we see a kind of social, economic, racial and gender segregation that would have astounded or appalled the man who is being commemorated today in the US:  Martin Luther King Jr.

Now, I don't think King would have denounced cycling or cyclists per se:  He was often seen riding, which he probably saw as a way of bringing him closer to some of the people he was trying to help.  And, because he was turning more of his attention to economic justice issues in his last days, I can somehow see him advising bike share organizations on ways to bridge the cultural divides and media representations that cause some people to believe they can't ride because they're not white and don't look good in lycra--or those who harass cyclists because they see us as entitled jerks (the educated riders of the German study) or the scum of the earth (cf. police who are trained to automatically assume that any cyclist in a low-income neighborhood is a criminal).

So...while I wasn't thinking specifically of King, or any activist in particular, when I was writing the posts I've linked in this post, thinking about King today is causing me to realize that my almost half a century of cycling--and nearly two decades of living as a woman--makes it all but impossible not to connect my experiences and even the things I most love (bicycling, reading, writing, food, travel, animals) to questions of justice.   In other words, the work of Martin Luther King Jr is one of the major byways, if you will, of my journey.

Spinning A Good Ride

When I first got serious about cycling, nearly half a century ago(!), the question was:  Reynolds 531 or Columbus SL?  Sometimes Vitus 971 was included, and within a few years,Tange and Ishiwata (The latter was seriously underrated, in my opinion!) would become part of the discussion.

Later, cyclists argued about whether to ride frames made of aluminum, titanium, carbon fiber--or steel. When serious cyclists said "steel," of course, they didn't mean the gaspipe-grade stuff used on bikes sold in big-box stores:  They were referring to Reynolds, Columbus and Tange (though in new configurations), Dedaccai and other makers.

Today, I am going to settle the question about frame materials, for once and for all.  Or, to be exact, someone more famous (and therefore more of an expert) than me--will give us the answer we've all been waiting for:

By Mike Joos

It's The Stories That Matter

During the past couple of days, it's been colder (in NYC) than it's been in, probably, a few years. Today is definitely a tomato-soup-and-grilled-cheese-sandwich kind of day. Now, to all of you dear readers in Minnesota and North Dakota, this might be a beach day (on Lake Superior?  the Red River?).  But you have to remember that those of us in the Big Apple, everything is bigger, brighter, dirtier, hotter, colder, and generally more intense, and everybody is tougher, stronger and smarter, than in any other place in the universe.

Of couse, I jested (Is that a real word?), but only somewhat, with my previous sentence.  But like any true New Yorker, that's what I tell myself.  And the tourist bureau wants you to believe stuff like that so you'll tell yourself that you'll never, ever come here--until you do.  And you meet someone like yours truly.  And someone else like me. (Yes, believe it or not, there such people.)  And another.  And another.  Then you go home and tell your friends that everything in New York is bigger, brighter, dirtier, louder, more intense--and more expensive--but, you know, those New Yorkers are rude and gruff but they have hearts of gold.

My late uncle Joe was that kind of person.  He was born and lived in Brooklyn until he was about 60, when he and my aunt moved upstate. He never lost his straight-out-of-Red Hook  (I bawt a boddle uv alluv earl in da staw on toity-toid and toid*) accent--or his sense of humor and generous spirit.  

I am thinking of him now because of a feature article in a local newspaper of a place I've never seen. Uncle Joe was an avid motorcyclist until he couldn't ride anymore.  I don't recall him riding a bicycle but he talked fondly of the one he rode as an adolescent in the 1950s:  a Schwinn Phantom, in black.  He said the bike always "felt right:"  in spite of its weight, "it moved."  And somehow, he said, the gearing felt just right:  "I felt I could pedal into anything!"

Now, perhaps that last exclamation had more to do with his youthful energy than the bike, or anything else--though, I must say, if his bike was anything like the two black Phantoms I've seen, he probably felt like a real badass when he rode it.  I know, I probably would have, too.

Howard F. Gordon of Lower Burrell, Pennsylvania has one of those bikes.  And, I would guess, another, perhaps in another color.  And other bikes from that period, and earlier--over 100 of them!

From what I read in the article and saw in the accompanying photos, all or most of those bikes are of the balloon-tired "cruiser" variety made by Schwinn, Columbia and many other American companies until the 1960s.  He calls his 1951 Monark "the Cadillac of bikes.

Even though he admits he has "too many" bikes, he's always on the lookout for new treasures, at garage and estate sales.  "There are so many bicycles in garages and attics that are worth money," he explains. Whenever he buys a bike, he disassembles it and cleans every part before reassembling and restoring the bike to something like its original condition.

One of his more interesting observations regards the condition of the bikes he finds.  Generally, he says, girls' bikes are in better condition because they were better cared-for. Boys, he observed, usually rode their bikes into the ground.

That observation is part of what keeps him interested in vintage bikes:  the stories, known or imagined, by them.  "Every one of those bikes had a rider who can tell you something about the adventures they took on it," he explains.  "A bike is a kid's first feeling of freedom."  Sometimes kids pedaled their bikes to places their parents never knew they went. (Can you see me and Uncle Joe winking to each other?)  

In case you were wondering, Gordon rides.  "My wife and I go on riding dates," he relates.  "We stop for ice cream.  We enjoy the nice weather.  It's great exercise."

That sounds like a story behind at least one of his bikes! 

*--Translation: I bought a bottle of olive oil in the store on Thirty-third and Third.

Photos by Louis B. Ruediger, for the Tribune-Review. 

Egyptian Art Deco Catholic In Jackson Heights

 Jackson Heights is five to six kilometers from my apartment.  I have ridden through it, many times, along various routes.  Still, a ride can lead me to some interesting corner or structure I’d never seen or noticed before.

This is one such building.  At first glance, it doesn’t seem out of place: Like most of what is now in the neighborhood, it was built during the late 1920s:  around the same time as the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings. Also, many palatial movie theatres were constructed during that time, just when movies were becoming the most popular form of popular entertainment.  So it would be easy to take this building for a Loews or RKO cinema, especially when you look up.

Those “movie houses” often combined the line structures and geometric shapes of Art Deco with Egyptian motifs. They sound like an odd pairing until you look at them—and you realize that Howard Carter discovered King Tutankhamen’s tomb in the early 1920s, setting off a fad for all things Egyptian just as Art Deco was becoming the most influential style in architecture and design.

That is why this building doesn’t look out of place in Jackson Heights and would look right in parts of the Bronx or Miami Beach, which were also developed around the same time.

What makes this building so unusual, is this:

I grew up Catholic and have entered all sorts of church buildings and cathedrals here, in Europe and Asia.  I can’t say, however, that I’ve seen any other Catholic Church building—or, for that matter, any other house of worship—that looks quite like this one. 

And to think:  I came across it just because I decided to make a turn, and ride down a street, I hadn’t before.  That is one of the joys of cycling!

In Philadelphia, You Can Park By A Hydrant If....

Firefighters might be one of the most loved and respected groups of people.  Even they, however, sometimes incur rage for doing their jobs.   As an example, one firefighter told me about the man who showed up at his firehouse, irate.  Turns out, the guy parked next to a hydrant and the firefighters had to damage his car to route the hose and ladder to an inflamed building.

Philadelphia has one of the largest communities of bicycle commuters in the US.  In one part of the city, nearly a fifth of all commuting miles are done by bicycle. Riders in the City of Brotherly love have similar complaints to their peers in other cities.  One is the lack of bike parking spaces:  Especially in central areas, where many work or go to school, cyclists find full racks when the try to park their bikes.

So, you ask, how are those two stories related?

The common thread was woven when three young people met in graduate school for industrial design. Grace Choi, Corey Jameson and Colin Lew formed an alliance called Team Sophon.  Under that moniker, they submitted a proposal to the Rack 'Em Up Bike Parking Competition.  Along with 16 others entries, Team Sophon's ideas were judged by a panel that included members of the city's Office of Transportation, Infrastructure and Sustainability (OTIS), Parking Authority, Fire Department and other agencies.  Five of  those entries were short-listed, and Team Sophon's was ultimately chosen.

Team Sophon's prototype, called "Harbor,"  would include a designated space in front of a hydrant where cyclists would stop and steer their bikes to the racks. That space--painted green--would be segregated by flexible barriers like the ones used to separate bike lanes from streets. Steel bollocks were initially proposed for the purpose, but selection committee members expressed concern that they could be dangerous in a crash.  And the racks, made from thick steel tubing, would sit under a canopy illuminated by solar-powered lights that would be activated when users enter.

Team Sophon's victory comes with a $3500 prize.  To begin, at least two Harbors will be built: one in West Philadelphia and another in the Old City, near a garage owned by the Philadelphia Parking Authority.

Those facilities will at least make some firefighters and cyclists happy.  Motorists, maybe not so much.

Can't Fix Your Bike? It's An Environmental And Economic Justice Issue

When I first became a dedicated cyclist--nearly half a century ago!--bicycles were touted as environmentally friendly alternatives to gas guzzlers.  At the risk of sounding like someone who pines for "the good old days," I'll say that most adult cyclists of the time were not merely "signaling" their concern for our habitat; they, as often as not, made other choices in line with their values.

Today, while some are "bikewashing" their lifestyles, there are some who are genuinely concerned with such matters as human-enhanced climate change.  So, while they might cycle to work or school (or, at least to the bus or train that takes them there), recycle the bottles, cans and other packaging they use during their lunch breaks and, perhaps, try to buy as local as possible, they could unwittingly be making at least one choice that undermines their other efforts.

To wit:  Their bicycles might be part of the problem.  Now, I don't mean to be pick on such folks.  Most people, especially if they're buying their first bike in decades, aren't familiar with how or where their bikes are made, or anticipate the normal wear and tear--and repairs--that come with regular use.  They also assume that "new is better," which is sometimes, but not always true.

Most mechanics, or anyone who's been cycling for, say, two decades or more, won't necessarily agree that "new is better."  It's true that almost any derailleur made today shifts better than almost any made fifty or forty years ago.  And, depending on your point of view, some other parts today are more efficient, convenient or lighter than their predecessors.  

But one problem is that most of those parts--or the bikes themselves--are not built to last because they're not made to be fixed.  "If I get a Huffy from the '90's, chances are I can actually make repairs to it," says Mac Liman. It will be heavy, but at least "the steel will hold together," she explains, and the result will be a serviceable, if inelegant, piece of basic transportation.

Liman would know:  She's been a mechanic for 19 years, the past  14 at Denver's Bikes Together shop.  Those Huffys were sold mainly in big-box shops like Wal-Mart, which sold out all of its bikes in March 2020.  "We're already starting to get those bikes," Liman lamented, "And we can't fix them."

One problem is the shortage of available parts caused by COVID-19-related manufacturing and supply chain disruptions. But an even bigger issue is simply the poor quality of those bikes:  Their frames crack and they have non-standard parts that can't be replaced at a reasonable price. "I've seen bearing cups that just fall out of hubs, so there's no way you can rebuild them," Liman says.

Her experiences have led her to join a petition calling for bikes to be repairable.  Its earliest supporters were mechanics at non-profit bicycle co-operatives and training programs like Recycle-A-Bicycle.  Cheap bikes from big-box stores are often donated, or brought in for repair, to such shops.  And people who buy bikes from such places are looking for something good and reliable for not very much money.

Now I have to admit that I was once one of those elitist bicycle snobs who snickered when I saw a department-store bike.  But I now understand that people buy such bikes, not because they're stupid, but because they don't know (yet!) why they should--or can't afford--to buy something better.

So, making unrepairabe bikes, like making almost anything else that's disposable, contributes to degrading the very environment some for which some folks are signaling their support by being seen on a bike.  And, as with so many other environmental issues, it's also a matter or social and economic justice, because it affects the working poor even more than those who buy those shiny-new Linuses and Brooklyn bikes.

Cologne Study Tells Us Who's Riding

 Two people, about the same age, have just achieved a major career--and financial--milestone. They decide to purchase a new vehicle for their commutes, and for pleasure.  One buys a 'Benz.  The other opts for a Brooklyn bike--or, if they want to splurge, a Brompton.  Why?

Well, an answer can be found in a University of Cologne study on cycling patterns and trends.  The Mercedes-Benz customer I've mentioned could be someone with a successful business or who's just scored a major contract.  The bike buyer, on the other hand, probably is more educated, more likely to be in a profession--and to live in an urban area.

Image from REI

According to the University of Cologne study, those bike buyers accounted for nearly all of the increase in cycling in Germany from 1996 through 2018.  At the end of that period, people with a high level of education (Arbitur) were cycling, on average, 70 minutes per week:  twice as much as they were pedaling at the beginning of that era. That also means they're riding three times as much as rural dwellers without Arbitur, whose cycling habits were all but unchanged.

From We Love Cycling

So what accounts for the differences I've mentioned?  Well, according to the study, people with Arbitur are more likely to live in urban areas--like Cologne--where cycling to work, school or shop is a practical alternative.  On the other hand, people in rural and suburban areas have to travel greater distances and buy more and larger items--which are harder to transport on bicycles--when they shop.

But, according to the study--conducted by sociologist Dr. Ansgar Hudde--there is another reason, perhaps more compelling to the educated folks themselves, why they choose to two pedals and two wheels rather than a gas pedal and an internal combustion engine for transport or other short trips.  It isn't cost:  Most  people with Arbitur, at least in Dr. Hudde's study, can afford a car or to use mass transit.  It also isn't time, though I have to wonder whether the experiences of folks in Cologne (or Hamburg, Berlin or Dusseldorf) parallel those of folks like me, who can ride to work in less time than the same trip would take on a train or bus, or even a car.  

Rather, a chief reason why those educated urban dwellers ride their bikes is the same reason why corporations quote Dr. Martin Luther King in their advertising:  signaling.  Those companies want to signal that they care about diversity and are otherwise socially conscious.  Likewise, urban folk with Arbitur are sending a message that they care about the environment or health, just as the guy with the shiny new Mercedes or Lexus is showing friends, family and others that he's "made it."

(Now I'm recalling that not so long ago, a stereotype of professors was that they drove Volvos.  They were more expensive than most American cars but, from what I understand, very well-made.  But their rather stodgy appearance contrasted with Mercedes polish or the frankly ostentatious looks of American-made luxury cars like the Cadillac Eldorado or Lincoln Continental. So those academic folk were signaling that they weren't signaling that they'd "made it.") 

Anyway, I found the Cologne study interesting for several reasons--one of which is how closely its findings parallel what I've observed here in the US.  While some people--men, mainly--in poor and immigrant communities ride bikes for cost or convenience, once their economic circumstances improve (and many of them move away), they buy cars, abandon their bikes and never look back.

A Trek To World Domination?

 Until a certain manufacturer started fabricating its wares in Wisconsin, Schwinn was regarded as the best American bike brand.  In fact, many, including Sheldon Brown, argued that it was the only U.S. marque with even a pretense of quality.

That reputation among the few dedicated adult cyclists of the pre-Bike Boom era was based largely on the fact that it made the Paramount, which was constructed from Reynolds 531 tubing and Nervex lugs and ridden by the US Olympic Team. But Schwinn also had a high reputation among the general public—it was the first brand that came to most people’s minds—mainly because it was the first company to have a network of authorized dealers.  Those stores were usually spacious, clean and well-lit and resembled automobile showrooms more than the small, cluttered shops that usually catered to cyclists.

(Some would argue—with justification, I believe—that the network, which helped the company prosper for a couple of decades, ultimately factored in its undoing. That is the subject of another post or article.)

It looks like Trek—the Wisconsin-based company I mentioned at the beginning of this post—is trying to replicate that sort of network and, perhaps, to wield or share control of the quality  (i.e., not sold in Walmart-type stores) bike market.  

Last week, Trek announced it bought Race Pace’s seven Baltimore locations.  That is the latest in a string of acquisitions of other local and regional chains as well as independent shops that were Trek dealers.

Commenters on an industry chat group are, naturally, speculating on what Trek’s buying spree—which has also spread, if to a lesser degree, to UK shops—might mean. Some see it as a strategy for competing with Specialized, which has followed a similar strategy for about two decades.  Others see it as a bid to dominate the market.

But they would probably agree with the commenter who said, “I think if you are a Trek dealer and Trek is not actively trying to buy your store, then your store is not part of the long-term plan.”

Could we see a future in which most bike shops belong to one of the Big Three or Four—say, Trek and Specialized and, perhaps Cannondale and/or Giant, in much the same way that, during the 1980s and ‘90’s, most bookstores were part of Barnes & Noble, Waldenbooks or Borders?

Hide Or Seek?

There are two interesting, and opposing, theories about urban street bike parking.

According to one school of thought, you should leave your wheels in the most visible place possible.  The thinking behind this is that would-be thieves are less likely to do their work if they're being watched.

The other notion is that the bike should be hidden, camouflaged even.  The idea behind that, I believe, is that a thief won't take what he or she can't see.

Perhaps the owner of this bike can't decide:

Or is the bike playing peek-a-boo?

If Your Bike Is Stolen, It Might End Up In A Place Like This

During the early '80s, around the time I first moved back to New York, there was a bike shop that sold used bikes and parts, as well as some new accessories.  There were rumors about, shall we say, the provenance of some of the shop's merchandise.

The shop changed locations--though it remained in the same neighborhood--before closing down some years back.  I have to admit that I never patronized the shop myself because two people I knew at the time told me they spotted their bikes, which had recently been stolen, in the shop and an employee or the owner, I forgot whom, assaulted one of them when he pointed out his purloined bike. 

While most shops are owned and operated by honest people, whether they are cycling enthusiasts or families, there have always been the "bad apples" who deal in bike booty.  They flourish under, basically, the same conditions that support black and gray markets:  demand, scarcity, high prices and people who are desperate or dishonest.  The shop I mentioned just happened to be in a gentrifying  neighborhood full of young people--the sort of neighborhood where thieves look for bikes--abutting an area known for drug dealing and other crime.  It was on a border, if you will.

What got me to thinking about that shop, and that part of my life, was a news item about a bike theft ring that's been exposed via the Bike Index registry. In addition to keeping information about bikes, stolen or not, and about theft rings and markets for stolen bikes. It also synthesizes data that connects stolen bikes that fall into patterns.

One of those patterns linked a number of bikes stolen in Colorado with a shop in Ciudad Juarez,  a Mexican city just across the Rio Grande from El Paso, Texas.  I have never been to either city, but CJ has a reputation for poverty and lawlessness, much like the drug-ridden area I mentioned earlier.  From what I've heard and read about it, some people, especially teenaged boys and young men, get involved the trade of stolen or counterfeit goods because they have few, if any, other options.  And people routinely cross over from EP to take advantage of lower prices.

Now, to be fair, the Ciudad Juarez "discount," if you will, has mainly to do with the difference between the nations' currencies and the generally lower cost of living on the Mexican side.  But some merchandise is cheaper than it is across the border because of, well, the way it came across the border.

And so it was with Alexander's Bikes.  They posted bike after bike for sale on a local Facebook page that could be viewed only in Mexico or with a Mexican VPN.  Bike Index used photos and other data from those listings along with reports on Colorado cycling Facebook groups and other BI data to link 10 bikes out of a batch of 43 it examined to their owners.  All of those bikes were, not surprisingly, high-end machines.

In one way, you have to hand it to whoever "masterminded" the scheme:  It's unlikely, to say the least, that someone looking to buy a bike in Ciudad Juarez would've been keeping tabs on bikes stolen in Colorado--or that someone whose bike was stolen in Colorado would stumble upon a geo-restricted Facebook page.

It seems that Alexander's is now closed for good, probably because of the Colorado Attorney General's  investigation or simply the publicity the case garnered.  Alexander Espinosa Perez, who ran the shop, has denied any involvement in bike trafficking and the sale of stolen goods.  He's agreed to work with Mexican and US authorities, but he immediately deleted the shop's Facebook and TikTok pages and wiped its Instagram page clean of its content. 

It's not clear as to whether he'll be allowed to sell bikes again.  Now I'm wondering what became of the owner(s) and employees of the shop I mentioned at the beginning of this post.  

Would Tires Make A Difference?

In the early hours of this morning, we had our first significant snowfall of the season.  Here in NYC, we've had a couple of bouts of flurries.  But this storm resulted in five to eight inches of accumulated white stuff.

Not surprisingly, few people are cycling.  Seeing the Citibike port got me to wondering whether more people would ride on a day like this if Citibikes had snow tires.  Are the share bikes in cities that get more snow--say, Montreal--so equipped?

Then again, I wonder whether Citibikes would get more use on a day like this if their tires had studs.  I don't know whether anyone has studied the matter, but from my observations, I would guess that Citibikes are ridden mainly on bike lanes or streets that are plowed early.  And many are ridden by tourists who, unless they're really dedicated riders or come from colder climates, aren't going to ride on a day like today. 

A Year After The Capitol Insurrection: Why It Matters

As I begin this post, Vice-President Kamala Harris is introducing President Joe Biden, who is about to talk about what happened a year ago today.

Now I am listening to the President recounting the events of that day. He's referred to the statue of Kleio, the muse of history with the book in which she records everything.  I've read enough books and documents to know that no matter how impartial or unbiased an account, no matter how unambiguous the language--verbal, visual, audio or otherwise--used to record it, no matter how free of irony or metaphor the record is, people will read into it whatever will confirm their worldview.  Still, I have to wonder how some people come to their conclusions.  To wit:  Folks who have looked at the same images, watched the same videos and read the same news articles claim, without a touch of sarcasm, that the insurrection (yes, the President called it that) was a "peaceful" demonstration and that the insurrectionists were trying to "take back our country."

Although this post doesn't directly relate to cycling, I don't think I'm invoking the Howard Cosell rule in talking about the sacking of the US Capitol.  The mobs that defecated and urinated on the floor and assaulted guards and police officers consisted of the same sorts of people who have been driving their cars and pickup trucks into bike lanes, groups of cyclists and the starting lines of cycling events.  They see us, whether because we are cyclists, or look, vote, love, work, worship (or not) differently from themselves, as threats to their vision of their country, their way of life and, most importantly, themselves.  

   

They're "Considering" Us

Exactly one month before I was born (OK, you can do the math!), Charles de Gaulle proclaimed, "Je vous ai compris!" to a crowd in Algiers.

What, exactly, he understood--or whom he was trying to reassure that he understood--is not clear.  Was he trying to reassure les pieds noirs--French colonials who lived (and some of whom were born) in Algeria that they could stay?  Was he telling military personnel--French? Algerian?  French Foreign Legion?--that he had their backs? Or was he guaranteeing  Algerians that their country would become independent (as it did four years later)?  

Some would say that he meant all, or none, of those things--that, perhaps, "je vous ai compris" was a "weasel" phrase.

If the latter is true, then the phrase could also be interpreted, if not translated, as "I have taken it under consideration" or "I have considered what you've said."

I have spent enough time around academic administrators to know that, for them and other bureaucrats, "consider" is too often a synonym for "ignore" or "pretend to hear." 

What brought those locutions to mind is the recent law requiring New York's Metropolitan Transportation Authority--which includes New York City's subway and bus systems, the region's commuter railroads and some of its bridges and tunnels--to "consider" bicycle and pedestrian access in its capital plans. Those plans would include not only new infrastructure, but also improvements to existing structures that currently lack such access.  

Call me cynical (Hey, I'm a New Yorker!), but I have to wonder just what "consider" means.  Or, for that matter, "access."  Some of the "access" I've seen to bridges is "access" in the same way that the stuff McDonald's and Burger King serve is "food."  

And, if the MTA actually does "consider" bike and pedestrian access, I have to wonder if it will be as poorly-conceived, -constructed and -maintained as most of the bike lanes I've seen in this city.