They Need Us. He Says So.

 Drivers need us.

That’s the point Nick Maxwell makes in an Edmonds (Washington State) News editorial.

Maxwell isn’t some granola-eater who “looks like an environmentalist.” Rather, he is a certified climate action planner for Climate Protection NW. In other words, he has training, experience and expertise that I appeared to have, according to one of my neighbors.

He also seems very observant. In his article, he mentions drivers’ annoyance when they can’t find a parking space while electric vehicle charging stations stand idle in the same parking lot.

He discusses some of the reasons why there aren’t more electric vehicles on the road and points out that it’s not the only reason why drivers can’t park after they’ve made their way through traffic jams.

He notes that in the lot he mentions—and at rail and bus stations—bicycles and eBikes are locked up. But they’re not, contrary to some drivers’ accusations, “taking” “their” parking spaces. Maxwell—and I—have yet to see a bicycle parked in a space designated for a car or truck.

Thus, he says, if more people cycled on to school, work, shop or go to concerts or ballgames, there would be fewer vehicles to jam the roads and fewer drivers competing for parking spaces.

He also says that more cycling, walking or use of mass transit would keep gasoline prices down or, at least, moderate their increases, especially during the summer, when people drive the most.

That last point got me thinking back to an exchange I had with a motorist some years ago. He castigated me—and all cyclists—essentially for inconveniencing him. Then he accused us of “acting like you own the road when we (meaning drivers) pay for it.

I explained that I was paying for that road just as much as he was. Like many other people, he believed that he was paying some sort of tax that I wasn’t. In fact, funds to build and maintain streets, highways and other infrastructure comes from the general pool of taxes everyone pays. The only tax I don’t pay that he pays is on gasoline.

Moreover, non-drivers subsidize drivers in other ways. As an example, if you live or work in a building that offers “free” parking, how do you think the property owners are paying for it. I am sure that the rents or prices they charge are adjusted upward, however slightly, to include what drivers get for “free.”

Oh, and I won’t even get into the fact that we, cyclists, don’t pollute or otherwise spoil the fresh green (or blue or terra cotta or whatever color) outdoor spaces people like to drive to for picnics and the like.

So, I would say that automobile drivers need us—cyclists, walkers and users of mass transportation—even more than Nick Maxwell shows his readers.

More Winners At This Year’s Olympics

 Last month, I wrote about Yulduz and Farima Hashimi, two Afghani sisters whose long road to the Olympics began in disguise and on borrowed bicycles.  

To me, whether or not they win a medal—or even finish a race—in Paris, they are winners.

So is Ese Ukpeseraye, who is not only the first Nigerian cyclist to compete in the Olympics. She is the first cyclist of any gender identity to go from the West African nation to the Olympics.

Originally, she was scheduled to compete only in road races. The disqualification of another nation’s riders opened a slot for her to compete in track events.

There was one problem:  While she had a proper road bike, she didn’t have one suitable for the velodrome, where racers pedal lighter weight machines that are more aerodynamic and have shorter wheelbases, single fixed gears and no brakes.

Just when it seemed she wouldn’t be able to represent her country on the oval, a track bike was loaned to her—by the German team.

For such munificence, I hereby declare that squad another of this year’s winners at this year’s Olympics. I don’t think they need me to make such an announcement: If they haven’t already won a medal or two, they probably will.

They Stole A Bike—And What Else?

 If you have ever had a bike stolen, bicycle thieves might seem like the most depraved individuals.

While pilfering Peugeots and Pogliaghis might be some crooks’ métier, others no doubt steal other things. This makes sense when you realize that many bike thefts are crimes of opportunity and the end-game is to sell the bike, whether whole in parts. The same could be said for the filching of other items like jewelry.

I have to wonder, however, about the two perps who entered, without permission, a New Orleans apartment complex on 18 July. They stole a bicycle—and a package containing the remains of a deceased person.

Surveillance images from NOPD

While I deplore stealing bikes, I can understand why thieves do it: Bicycles are relatively easy to swipe and sell. I cannot, on the other hand, comprehend a motive for taking someone’s remains. Could it be that the partners in crime took the package simply because it was there and didn’t realize what was inside? Or was there some more complicated motive that involved, say, revenge or simply harassment against a particular person?

Whatever the explanation may be, a bicycle and a package of human remains has to be one of the strangest combinations of theft I—and, possibly, the police officers investigating the case—have ever heard of.

Cyclists in The City Of Light

 During the Olympic Games, not all cyclists are on the track or trails, or on streets set aside for the road races and time trials. And they’re not all commuters: After all, Paris (and France) has a reputation for being “closed” in August, when residents leave for vacations in the countryside or abroad.

Rather, many of the cyclists along the Quai d’Orsay and other popular venues are visitors. Velib (the city’s bike share network) use is up 11 percent from last year in spite of bad weather. Much of that increase can be attributed to a 44 percent rise in temporary passes.

It’s difficult not to think that visitors are encouraged by the network of bike lanes that laces the City of Light and the auto-free zones created in other parts of the city.  Also, Velib has installed additional docking stations at the entrances to Olympic venues and other key locations.

Illustration by Logan Guo

The campaign to make Paris less car-congested and more bik-friendly began shortly after current mayor Anne Hidalgo was first elected ten years ago and was no doubt accelerated by planning for the Olympics. In contrast to American cities—like my hometown of New York—that have made efforts that are more sporadic and less organized—visitors and residents alike seem to enjoy the car-free spaces. I wonder whether the visitors be motivated by their memories of cycling the city—or simply enjoying coffee by the Champ de Mars or Rue de Rivoli—and help to make their hometowns more bike-friendly or simply more pleasant and sustainable. I just hope they won’t blame a new bike lane for “taking “ “their” parking spaces, as happens so often here in New York. 

French BMX

 In 2015, I wrote a post about Lyotard pedals.  The French manufacturer was best known for its Models 460–the alloy “rattrap” model popular with cyclo-cross riders and bike tourists and commuters—and the 23, a.k.a., Berthet, a platform pedal that inspired the MKS and White Industries Urban Platform pedals.  Many ‘70’s Bike Boom-era machines were equipped with other models like the 45 (an alloy quill pedal) and the 136R, which was more or less a steel version of the 460 and sometimes had built-in reflectors.

Nowhere in the brochures I could find—or in articles like the one on the Classic Lightweights website—did I find a reference to this:

I am guessing that like Lyotard’s clipless pedal, it wasn’t made for very long. 

Both the BMX and clipless models, as good as they may have been, seem to have been “last gasp” efforts to keep the company, which seems to have ceased trading in the late-1980s, afloat. Lyotard’s sales of its less-expensive pedals (like the steel ones I mentioned) tanked, even as original equipment to manufacturers, when cheaper imports became available. Then the market for its higher-end pedals (and those from other companies) all but disappeared once Look and Time made easy-to-use clipless pedals available around 1985.

That year was also around the peak of BMX’s popularity—and when the cycling world was starting to realize that mountain bikes weren’t “just a fad.” While Japanese companies made many of the early BMX- and mountain-bike-specific parts, and Campagnolo even offered full gruppos for a couple of years, French bike and component manufacturers were slow to enter the mountain bike world and hardly touched BMX at all.

So, it’s hard not to wonder (for me, anyway) whether Lyotard would still be with us—and, in fact, be the presence it once was—had they started to make pedals like the ones in the photos—and clipless pedals—sooner.

The Point Of The Ride

 Some cyclists—especially racers and triathletes—eat to ride. Other cyclists ride to eat.

The same can be said for those who aren’t cyclists but take other kinds of rides.

His Freedom For A Reflector

 If there is a warrant out for you, make sure your bicycle has an intact reflector if you ride in West Des Moines, Iowa.

Now, I realize that this lesson or moral or whatever you want to call it applies to a very small number of you, my dear readers. I suspect (oddly appropriate word choice, isn’t it?) that not many of you have cycled in West Des Moines, Iowa (I haven’t) and, probably, even fewer, if any, of you have warrants for your arrest (something I don’t recommend).

But I have chosen to relate this story for its “Beware!” and “You never know…” elements.

George Hartleroad (Sounds like the name of the street he was riding on, doesn’t it?) was pedaling along a road in the Midwestern community when he was stopped for something that, to my knowledge, has never resulted in a pull-over here in New York. I don’t think it’s even been the ostensible reason why any NYPD officer halted some young man who was Riding While Black.

What was Mr. Hartleroad’s infraction?  His bike lacked a reflector.

But whatever trouble he might’ve been in was nothing compared to what awaited him when he gave a false name and the officers couldn’t find it. Finally, he gave his name, which revealed that he failed to report to a halfway house In Wisconsin in 1995.

“You’ve been on the run for longer than two out of the three officers here on the street have been alive,” said one of the arresting officers.

Turns out, a dozen years earlier, Mr. Hartleroad violently attacked a Minnesota woman in Chippewa County, Wisconsin. He served prison time for that assault before he was released to the halfway house he left and to which he didn’t return.

What can I say?  First I’ll reiterate what I said earlier: Don’t do anything that could result in a warrant. Second: If you’re going to get arrested, make sure it’s for something worthwhile like protesting injustice. And finally:  If you’re in West Des Moines, Iowa, be sure your bike has a reflector.

100 Years Of Baldwin. We Need At Least 100 More.

Today I will once again invoke my Howard Cosell Rule and write a post that will not relate directly to bicycling or bicycles.

On this date 100 years ago, James Baldwin was born in Harlem.  He was not, however, part of that New York City community’s fabled “Renaissance.” He did not come from a family of writers—though he, of course, became one—or musicians, dancers, painters, sculptors or intellectuals. Rather, he was born to a single mother who, when James was three, married a strict Baptist minister who came up from New Orleans.

As he relates in some of his essays—and as he alludes to in some of his fiction—he spent most of his childhood and adolescence in poverty during the Great Depression. He also experienced racism that, while not as overt as his father might have experienced, nonetheless helped to shape his point of view as a writer and activist.

I am commemorating him today because he helped to shape my life.  From the time I first discovered his work—copies of Giovanni’s Room and  The Fire Next Time in the most unlikely of places:  on the bookshelf of my campus’ Christian fellowship—I couldn’t get enough of his writing.  For a couple of years, I had a copy of one of his books in my back pocket, backpack, shoulder bag, panniers or handlebar bag. My life was very different from his, but I wanted to write with his style, passion and conviction.

To this day, passages of Baldwin’s work course through my mind—or, more precisely, reverberate through my ears. One is the most succinct explanation of “terrorism*” I have seen: “The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing to lose.” (The Fire Next Time) Another is a coda for my life: “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” (No Name In The Street) And—could Baldwin have been foretelling Trump and his cult with this?: “There are so many ways of being despicable it quite makes one’s head spin. But the way to be really despicable is to be contemptuous of other people’s pain. (Giovanni’s Room)

Oh, if only I could write like James Baldwin. And ride like Eddy Mercx.  And look like Rebecca Twigg.

*-How does that saying go? One country’s terrorist is another country’s freedom fighter.

Collateral Damage—Or Debris?

 When I wrote for newspapers, there were times I wanted to do unspeakable things to whoever wrote the titles. Sometimes those lead-ins had little or nothing to do with what I wrote. Or they made the reader think my article was slanted in a way it wasn’t.

I was reminded of those experiences when I came across a Fox News item about Olympic bike race mishaps in Paris.  Some had to do with the road conditions themselves, as I mentioned in a previous piece. Others were a result of the rain that plagued the opening ceremony and first few days of the games.

Jackson Thompson’s report is actually good:  He sticks to describing the conditions I mentioned and riders’ experiences. It doesn’t seem to betray the anti-bike bias one might expect from the network.

But its headline does:  “Paris streets littered by bicycle crashes during Olympics triathlon amid wet conditions.”

Now, I realize that “littered” is used to mean “full of,” “covered with” or “scattered.” But using it in the context of “streets” implies another of the word’s meanings:  strewn about like trash or debris.

Could it be that Fox News’ headline writer though Mr. Thompson wasn’t toeing the company’s explicit or covert line?

Hunger Ride?

Another heat wave. Tomorrow will be even hotter. 

I didn’t eat anything before setting out on an early ride to Randall’s Island. On my way back, I started to feel hungry about five kilometers from my apartment.

We’re the pangs in my stomach a result of the ride, not eating breakfast—-or seeing this?:

Do I Look Like One?

I was on my way to the post office when one of my new neighbors spotted me.

“Excuse me, can I ask you something?”

“Well, that depends”: my usual response to such a question.

“I’m going to ask you this because you look like an environmentalist…”

She wanted some advice on what to do with some seeds that have sprouted. Now, I don’t know whether my response was any more sagacious than what I could have told her if she had asked what to do about a guy. I was, however, intrigued by her perception of me.  “What made you think I’m an environmentalist?”

“I always see you on your bike.”

While my reasons—which I hardly think about anymore—for cycling aren’t primarily about the environment, they do help to keep me in the saddle. For one thing, I know that I’m putting a lot less carbon in the air than I would if I were driving. For another, even though I’ve had more bikes than the average person during my life, I have kept and ridden a few of them—including at least three of my current bikes for longer than most people (or Americans, anyway) keep their cars. That might also be a reason why I recycle and reuse whatever I can:  I believe that my ethos behind such practices is linked to fixing whatever I can on my bikes rather than replacing them with the “newest and latest.”

To my new neighbor, my bike gave me away as an “environmentalist.” Might she also have seen me sneaking granola when I thought she, and nobody else, could see me?

A Cycling Bond?

 If I had given or received this, would I (and/or someone else) be married today?

Glissante Lorsq’il Est Mouillé

 He acknowledged that he did “quite some beautiful sightseeing” during a bicycle ride in Paris. But he also complained about street conditions at the beginning and end of that ride.

I imagine that he had good reason, even though—in my experience, anyway—streets in the City of Light are in better condition than those in my hometown of New York. The rider in question, you see, wasn’t a tourist and sightseeing wasn’t the purpose of his trek.  He was pumping and spinning his way through the Olympic time trial. Oh, and less than a week ago, he finished third in the Tour de France.

R

Remco Evenepoel in the Tour de France

Remco Evenepoel lamented the poor road conditions during the first and last few kilometers of the 32.4 kilometer time trial, which began this morning near the Eiffel Tower, headed east towards the Place de la Bastille and the Polygone de Vincennes before looping back into the city and finishing at the ornate Pont Alexandre III—in the rain that has fallen almost continuously since yesterday’s opening ceremonies.

That precipitation may have made things even dicier for the mountain bike racers. Nino Schurter, who won medals in the previous two Olympics, said the gravel on the manmade course 40 kilometers outside Paris was “quite loose.” He added, “If you go fast, it’s quite slippery.”

This Fix Is A First

The other day I wrote about the obstacles , financial and logistical, that caused BCycle, Houston’s bike sharing network, to shut down.

What was not said—but was, I believe implied—was the difficulty of keeping the bikes running. When share bikes need repairs, they usually are brought to the share network’s central office or shop. That, of course, adds significantly to the amount of time the bike is out of service, especially if the problem needing repair develops in a part of the city far from headquarters.

Photo by Dave Sidaway for the Montreal Gazette 

One bike share program aims to remedy that problem. Bixi, Montréal’s bike share program, is trying what it believes to be a “first,” at least in North America. Yesterday, it opened its first “Carrefour Bixi”: a mini-bike repair shop connected to a larger docking station. It’s located at Parc La Fontaine, where Bixi is especially popular because of its proximity to both the city’s popular tourist attractions and its central business district.

Bixi plans to open several more Carrefours in other areas where Bixi is popular. Those stations will mainly handle small repairs like flat tires or brake and gear adjustments, which account for the majority of repairs.  More serious fixes will continue to be done at Bixi headquarters.

A New Totem?

 Not long ago, if you saw a wooden likeness of a Native American outside a storefront, the establishment inside was more than likely a cigar shop or tobacconist.

The new equivalent of the “cigar store Indian” is a bicycle, or a likeness of one, festooned with flowers and ferns. But smoking isn’t allowed (at least here in New York City) in the sort of business this new totem most often signals: a café.

I saw this one during my early morning ride.  It was, at least, a bike I recognized: a Raleigh Colt. Like the classic Raleigh 3-speeds, it came with 26 inch wheels and Sturmey-Archer hubs. The main difference, it seemed, was that the frame design was tweaked (the boy’s version is a “camelback”) to allow for a smaller frame on full-sized wheels.

Anyway, I thought the café Colt was just another decoration until I got a second glimpse.

The flowers aren’t attached to the bike, and the rear tire is flat. I wondered whether someone had abandoned the bike there.  Or do the café’s owners bring it inside at closing time?

Will Bike Share Return to Bayou City?

 

Photo by Gail Delaughter, Houston Public Media

Houston, Texas is the fourth-largest city in the United States. At the end of last month, it became the largest without a bike-share network.

To put that into perspective, New Rochelle, New York—a city a few miles from my apartment—has a bike share network. And for every resident in “The Queen City of the Sound,” approximately 30 live in “Bayou City.”

Houston BCycle launched in 2012 and, like most other bike-share programs, became popular. Some say that it became a victim of its success. BCycle board member James Llamas told Houston Public Media that as  BCycle tried to grow from a mainly recreational service to one that could serve as an alternative and equitable mode of transportation, its business model—which relied on user and sponsorship revenue—proved unsustainable. The nonprofit network sometimes received support from Harris County Commissioner Rodney Ellis and the city, but it wasn’t steady enough to cover budget shortfalls.

Under a previous group of Metropolitan Transit Authority of Harris County (METRO) board members, there had been a plan to operate a new bike-share program operated by Quebec-based PBSC Urban Solutions. But new leadership recently took Metro’s reins and a spokesperson said the plan is “under review.”

I haven’t been to Houston in a long time. But if it’s anything like the city I remember, it needs a bike share program that is a viable transportation option as much as any city needs it. While, from what I’ve read and heard, the availability and reliability of the city’s bus system has improved greatly—and there are a few light-rail lines (none existed when I was there), it’s still—like most US cities south of the Potomac and west of the Appalachians—very difficult to live and work without a car. For one thing, unlike cities like Boston, Paris and my hometown of New York, it sprawls and annexes far-flung suburbs and rural areas. For another, its planning has prioritized driving: Much of METRO’s jurisdiction includes High Occupancy Vehicle (HOV) lanes.  And, as one resident explained, in “H-Town” and its surrounding area, “sidewalks are a luxury.”

If and when Houston gets a new bike-share network, it will be starting from scratch: BCycle’s bikes, docking stations and ancillary equipment —from pickup trucks to soap dispensers—are up for auction.  All items are sold “as is” and are, as Scott Erdo, the city’s Asset Disposition Department division manager admits, “in various states of disrepair.” He cautions, “Buyer beware.” Bids on bikes start at $10: only $2.50 more than a one-hour ride on BCycle.

One can only hope that the auction will help to bring a new, and possibly improved, bike share system to a city that really can use it.

Ban ‘Em All! Let Trump Sort ‘‘Em Out!

 Before firing the shot that grazed Donald Trump’s ear, Thomas Matthew Crooks (Can you think of a better name?) scoped out the area around the rally—on his bicycle.

Oh, and we’ve all seen videos of President Joe Biden wobbling and falling off his Trek.

What does that mean? For the first time in US history, a bicycle was involved in endangering the lives of both major-party candidates in a Presidential elections.

Bicycles! We all know they’re a Green Commie Chinese device to undermine national security. Therefore…We simply must ban them.

Of course you know, dear readers, that I would never propose anything so outrageous. Rather, it’s the premise of a Washington Free Beacon editorial.  

Its author, Andrew Stiles, clearly labels his work as “satire.” As such, it’s very good—even if, as I suspect, he is lampooning his and the WFB’s editorial board’s idea of what cycling, recycling, gender-“changing” pinkos like me think about guns. 

Another school shooting. Ban all guns.

For the record, I am not at all in favor of outlawing firearms. I have not so much as handled one in more than four decades. But I understand that if I were to pick one up, I won’t be on a slippery slope to shooting up a shopping mall.

Two of my uncles were hunters. I have been in rural homes where the meat in the freezer came from a family member’s skill with using a rifle that was propped against a wall. And, as the matriarch of one such family pointed out, in a remote area like hers, it could take the police an hour to arrive in response to an emergency call. That is, if they can even get to a house like hers, which may not be accessible from a paved road.

So, of course I don’t favor, any more than Bernie Sanders, “taking everyone’s guns away.” I do favor, however, stronger safeguards against unbalanced people getting their hands on weapons of war.

That said, I also think that to keep kids safe, we need to post copies of the Ten Commandments in every classroom*—just as we need to Andrew Stiles’ proposal to keep this country—and its presidential candidates—safe.

*—I would love to hear how a teacher might explain #7 to a second-grader.

A Ride With A Real Cyclist

 So…What’s it like to ride with the guy next door?

I found out, sort of this past Sunday: I took a spin with a man who lives a few floors below my “penthouse.”

That I have been riding nearly every day hasn’t gone unnoticed by other residents of my senior (don’t tell anybody!) residence. One, whom I’ll call Sam* asked whether we could “just go out and ride, to no place in particular.” Not knowing him, I wasn’t sure of what to make of his proposal. Not knowing any other cyclists—or anyone else—very well, I thought “Why not?”

So, our journey—me, on Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear bike and him, on a Roadmaster ATB he bought on Amazon, began around 9 am. I took him up to Mosholu Parkway, where a bike-pedestrian lane splits the shoestring park that splits the north from the south side of the road. Riding west takes you to Van Cortlandt Park. We went east—not very far—to Southern Boulevard and the Botanical Garden gate. It allowed us to bypass two very busy intersections where traffic enters and exits a highway, and enter the Bronx Park path to Pelham Parkway. 

I took him along what has become one of my early morning rides to City Island. He’d been there before, he said, but not on a bike.

From there, we pedaled back over  the bridge to Pelham Bay Park,which is three times the size of Manhattan’s Central Park. From there, I took him through neighborhoods that line the Hutchinson and Bronx Rivers and Long Island Sound. (One of those neighborhoods is, believe it or not, called “Country Club.”) 

The day grew hotter and the sun bore down on us. He seemed to take the weather better than I did, but he said he was impressed with my riding “on a bike you can’t coast.” 

I must say that I had all the more reason to be impressed:  He simply wanted to keep on riding. Whatever his bike or strength, that told me he is certainly a cyclist at heart.

When we reached SUNY Maritime College, he confessed that he, a lifelong Bronx resident, had never seen it—or, more important, the rather scenic waterfront—before. He also had never been in Country Club, with its huge houses, some of which wouldn’t look out of place in “The Great Gatsby.” After our ride, I realized that while he is a Bronx “lifer,” he rarely, if ever, had seen anything east of the Bruckner Expressway. That made me think of my experience of living in Brooklyn until I was 13: I really didn’t know anything beyond my immediate neighborhood until I returned as an adult. As I once told somebody, I’d crossed the ocean before I’d crossed Ocean Parkway.

A journey takes you to some place where you’ve never been, where it’s on the other side of the world or a part of your home—or yourself—you’ve never seen before. For me, that—and not the number of miles or kilometers or how much time —is cycling. And, I feel that is what I experienced on a ride with a new neighbor.

*—I have given him a pseudonym because I’m not sure of how much he would want me to reveal about him.

Real Winners In Paris

Imagine this:  After bringing glory to your country, you can’t go home.

That is the dilemma Yulduz and Fariba Hashimi could face.

Actually, the two sisters haven’t been home in three years. They’ve been training in Switzerland for this year’s Paris Olympics. How they got there is exactly the reason why they can’t return their native land.

Yulduz (l) and Fariba Hashimi

In 2021, they fled the Taliban takeover of Afghanistan on an Italian evacuation flight. They were joined by, among others, three young people who would become their Olympic teammates. 

In Italy, they received proper coaching for the first time. “Back in Afghanistan, we didn’t have professional training,” says Yulduz. “All we used to do was take our bikes and ride.”

That isn’t nearly as idyllic as it sounds. Their bikes were borrowed and they trained and raced—and won—in disguise and under false names. When stories about them appeared in the local media, their parents begged them to stop. People drove rickshaws and cars, and threw stones, at them.

They were not only in one of the most restrictive countries for women and girls, they were in one of its most remote and conservative areas: Faryab province. As if that, and the lack of coaching. weren’t formidable obstacles, they were working from yet another disadvantage. Yulduz, now 24 years old and Fariba, 21 didn’t even mount a bicycle for the first time until they were 17 and 14, respectively. When they arrived in Italy, they were training with, and competing against cyclists who started pedaling not long after they learned how to walk.

Although few believe they will win a medal, I—and,

I suspect, more than a few other people—wouldn’t be too surprised if they did, given what they’ve overcome and sacrificed.

Whatever the results of their races, they will vindicate the International Olympic Committee’s maneuvering. According to IOC rules, a country must choose its team members without political interference. That, of course, wasn’t going to happen with the Taliban in power: Women aren’t allowed to do much besides bear children and keep a household, never mind compete in sports. 

The IOC talked, behind the scenes, with Afghan sports officials—some of whom live in exile—about putting together a special team to represent Afghanistan in Paris.

 For once, I applaud the wheeling and dealing of the IOC, an organization whose level of corruption rivals the UCI and FIFA. Their work work means two Yulduz and Fariba Hashimi’s presence in Paris is a victory, whatever the results of their races.

Good-Bye, Papa Elf!

 The man in the rear was playing his favorite role. 

Bob Newhart was Papa Elf in “Elf,” the 2003 Christmas classic. 

Although he wasn’t “playing himself,” I think his portrayal of Papa Elf tapped into the dry curmudgeonly humor of the personae he created in “The Bob Newhart Show” and “Newhart.”

Sadly, there will be no more from him: He passed away today, at 94 years old. Somehow, though, he will always seem to be, like his characters, in midlife: He was almost there when his career in comedy finally took off.

A Year And 500 Miles

 In a previous post, I said that the easiest way to get away with killing someone in North America is to run over a cyclist or pedestrian with a car, truck or other motorized vehicle.  For one thing, dead victims can’t testify for themselves. For another, planning, policy and law enforcement have prioritized moving vehicular traffic as quickly and efficiently as possible. Cyclists and pedestrians are seen as “getting in the way” of that goal. And, oftimes, law enforcement officials simply don’t care.

So—call me a cynic—I am surprised when a reckless driver faces justice for ending one of our rides—even if said driver is impaired or can be shown to have intended harm or was simply negligent.

Therefore, learning that Jessica Hendrickson was arrested yesterday in western Kentucky seemed almost fantastical. Surveillance cameras placed an alert on her vehicle tag, locating her at Exit 86 on Interstate 24. There, Oak Grove police apprehended her.

She struck and killed 61-year old Navy veteran Jeff Nichols—on 10 June 2023 near Pensacola, Florida. In other words, she was on the run for more than a year after killing a cyclist about 500 miles (800 kilometers) from where she was taken into custody.

According to the Western Kentucky Star, she is being “lodged” (Don’t you love that term?) in the Christian County Jail. She faces a charge of being a fugitive from another state.

Will Donuts Destroy This Shop?

 Some cyclists—racers, mainly—would never, ever touch a donut. Others see them as a quick and tasty source of energy.

I’ll admit that I’ve had a donut or two before or during rides. So I won’t judge you if you have.

If bikes and donuts are beside each other, I suppose they could be mutually beneficial for business. At least, a bike shop or lane might bring business to a donut shop. On the other hand, there are instances in which donuts aren’t good for a bike shop.

The kinds of donuts I’m talking about aren’t Dunkin’ or Krispy Kreme, cinnamon or Boston Cream. Rather, I am referring to an automotive stunt that involves rotating the rear or front wheels in a continuous motion around the opposite set of wheels. The goal seems to be to leave a circular skid mark of rubber and leave smoke from friction.

Of course, anyone engaging in such stupidity probably will feel the need to do it at as high a rate of speed as possible. That increases the chances of the driver losing control, sometimes with tragic consequences.

A donut “sideshow” didn’t cost John McDonell his life. But it may have cost him his life’s work—or the last 13 years of it, anyway.

During that time, he has owned and operated Market Street Cycles in San Francisco. For a few years, business was very good: The shop stands at the intersection of Market, Page and Valencia Streets, all of which have bike lanes. Thus, the establishment profited from being along one of the city’s busiest bicycles commuting routes.

That is, until the COVID-19 pandemic struck.  San Francisco was under one of the hardest lockdowns in the US. Even after it was lifted, bicycle—and vehicular—traffic never resumed. According to McDonell, there’s “less than one-third of the traffic” that passed the shop pre-pandemic. “There’s no downtown, there’s no commute anymore,” he lamented.

Since then, his shop and other businesses in the area have been plagued with robberies.  But the coup de grâce may have come early yesterday morning, when a driver doing “donuts” smashed into his shop. The 57-year-old shop owner says he’ll probably close permanently. “I’m too old for this shit,” he said.

Haring What I’m Seeing

 Seen during an early morning ride in New York:

4500, Le Quatorze

 In France, this day isn’t called “Bastille Day.” Instead, it’s known as “Fête Nationale” or “Le Quatorze” (The 14th).

Bonne Fête Nationale! Joyeux Quatorze!

At least (from my point of view) the French can celebrate something that I hope we in America can later this year: They kept a far-right government from taking power in their country.

And what can I celebrate besides my Francophilia? Well, this is Post Number 4500 of Midlife Cycling.

Howard Sutherland R.I.P.

 Yesterday I wrote about how, in the old days (You get to say things like that in midlife!), when putting together a bicycle drivetrain, you didn’t have to worry much about compatibility. One company’s derailleurs worked with another firm’s shift levers, and it didn’t matter how many cogs were on your freewheel.

The bad news was that such compatibility didn’t extend to other parts of the bicycle. There was—and is—a dizzying array of seatpost diameters, for example. Oh, and good luck finding a replacement for that “Swiss” threaded bottom bracket. Velo Orange offers modern sealed bearing bottom brackets in it and other “obsolete” configurations, but they might not fit your crank.

Back in the old days (!) many bike shop employees and owners weren’t aware of those, and other (non)compatibility issues. And when the ‘70’s Bike Boom exploded in the States, shop mechanics and managers came across bikes and parts they’d never seen before and didn’t know what they needed in order to assemble or repair them.

A certain mechanic was working at the Missing Link Bicycle Cooperative in Berkeley, California. Henoticed the problems I’ve described and how grappling with them was keeping shops from running more efficiently—which, he thought, was keeping people from enjoying cycling.

So what did he do? He compiled data on all sorts of bike parts and wrote a book he self-published.

If you’ve worked in a bike shop during the past half-century, you’ve used it or its six subsequent editions. Even if you haven’t worked in a shop, you might have owned and used it.

If Tom Cuthbertson’s “Anybody’s Bike Book” was an my introduction to bike repair, then Howard Sutherland’s “Handbook for Bicycle Mechanics” brought my knowledge and helped to elevate my skills to a shop level. It’s often been called the bike mechanic’s “bible.”

The first edition of Cuthbertson’s book came out in 1971, at the dawn of the Bike Boom. Sutherland published the first edition of his volume two years later, as the Boom was nearing high noon, if you will. Such books were very important for American cyclists and bike shops because much generational or institutional knowledge had been lost during the previous half-century or so when few American adults cycled. Much of that knowledge survived in Europe and Japan, where people cycled for transportation and recreation. But, in those days before the Internet, it was difficult to find.

So cyclists and bike mechanics certainly owe a debt of gratitude to Howard Sutherland, who passed away last month at 75. A memorial service will be at 10 am (Pacific time) today in the Berkeley City Club.

Fun fact: He had a brother who predeceased him and a sister who survives him. Their names? Mac and Beth. You’d think their parents were Shakespeare scholars or actors.

As Smooth As Friction

• SunTour VGT rear derailleur 
• Shimano Titlist front derailleur 
• Huret shift levers (similar to Simplex retrofriction )
• Stronglight 93 crankset and chainrings 
• SunTour Pro Compe freewheel
• Sedis “sedicolor” chain (gold, to match the freewheel!)

• Huret Jubilee rear derailleur 
• Campagnolo Super Record front derailleur 
• Simplex retrofriction (“teardrop “) levers
• Campagnolo Super Record crankset and chainrings 
• Maillard 700 freewheel 
• Regina chain

So what do those two lists have in common? Each of them comprised the drivetrain on one of my bikes. The first ran on an iteration of my Peugeot PX-10 when I repurposed it as a touring bike. The second graced the Colnago Arabesque I rode for much of my inglorious racing career!

One thing you’ll notice is that neither set was composed entirely of parts from the same company. Until the mid 1980s, that was the norm, as no component manufacturer—not even Shimano or Campagnolo—offered a truly complete “gruppo”: Neither company’s lines included chains, and Campagnolo didn’t offer freewheels.

Another reason why most were casseroles , so to speak, rather than purées is that, for the most part, one firm’s derailleurs could be used with another’s shift levers, freewheels, chainrings and chains. It also didn’t matter if you switched from, say, a six- to a seven-speed freewheel: As long as your derailleurs could handle the range (smallest to largest cogs) and the total gear difference (the combined range of your front chainrings and rear sprockets), it didn’t matter that the other parts weren’t from the same maker.

That all changed 40 years ago, when Shimano introduced SIS: the system with shifters that “clicked.” It

worked extremely well—as long as your freewheel (or cassette) cogs, chain, derailleurs, shifters and cables were all Shimano SIS. (Many of us soon discovered that Sedisport chains worked as well as, and lasted longer than, Shimano’s offerings.) By the end of the decade, nearly all new bikes had SIS or its variants, two of which I’ll mention. “If it doesn’t click, it won’t sell,” became a bike industry mantra.

Seemingly in a panic, Campagnolo and SunTour offered their own “click shift” systems. (SunTour actually made one in 1969. It reportedly worked well, but the still-relatively-small derailleur-equipped bike market wasn’t ready for it.) Both failed—Campagnolo’s Syncro system was panned as “Stinkro”—for essentially the same reason. While Shimano designed an integrated system, it seemed that Campagnolo and SunTour simply made indexed levers. The “clicks” didn’t always mesh with the gear change because they were the calibrated to the distance between the cogs. 

Campagnolo’s Syncro wasn’t produced for very long and seems to have found popularity mainly among collectors. “Campy” was able to redeem itself during the ‘90’s, when it made an integrated system (with Ergo levers) that worked well. SunTour, on the other hand, never recovered from its failed system (and, to be fair, other missteps). Its reputation was made worse because bike-makers like Schwinn used their old stocks of French cables and chains that didn’t play nice with SunTour’s click shift.

SunTour’s fate is a particularly sad irony when you consider that a generation of cyclists like me could replace a malfunctioning Huret Allvit, Simplex Prestige or Campagnolo Valentino or Gran Turismo—or an ailing Atom or Regina freewheel—with something from SunTour without re-doing the rest of the bike.

Part of the reason why that was possible was “friction “ shifting, as Eben Weiss points out in his latest Outside article. He cites that compatibility as the reason why, after decades of using indexed shifting and a brief fling with electronic changers, he’s converting all of his bikes to friction shifting.

I may do the same. It wouldn’t be difficult, really.Of my seven bikes, five have derailleurs. (The other two include a fixed-gear and single-speed.) Two of the five shift with Simplex retrofriction levers. The other three—Dee-Lilah (my Mercian Vincitore Special), La-Vande (King of Mercia) and Vera (Miss Mercian mixte) have Dura-Ace 9-speed downtube levers. I’m using them in indexed mode but they can be converted to friction levers simply with a turn of the adjuster ring. I would do that, of course, if I were to use 8- or 10-speed cassettes instead of the 9s I’m currently running.

Tour Team Bikes Stolen

 As too many of us know too well, bicycles are among the most easily- and therefore commonly-stolen items. Usually, when a lower-priced bike is taken, it’s a crime of opportunity. But when an expensive machine is pilfered, it more than likely been targeted, whether by an individual or someone working for a gang or other group that steals and sells bikes.

The latter scenario probably explains the theft of 11 bicycles valued at around 150000 Euros (about 163000 USD) from a team mechanic’s van in Le Lorian, a resort in the Massif Central of France.

Some of those bikes were spares for riders on the French Total Energies team. Others—possibly including the Anthony Turgis, rode to victory in Stage 9 earlier this week—were riders’ “best” bikes.

Anthony Turgis (from Getty Images)

 Other teams are helping TE build replacements, which is difficult without the mechanics’ tools.

I have to wonder why—or whether—TE was targeted. Most of those bikes were Enve Melees which, even if they were sold (as most high-end stolen bikes are) for a fraction of their retail value, would net a hefty profit. 

Or is there someone who doesn’t want French riders like Turgis to win more stages—or the entire Tour for the first time since Bernard Hinault achieved his fifth Tour victory in 1985?

Could it be that some unscrupulous collector placed an order for Enve Melees or bikes ridden by Tour riders?

Whatever the case, the team’s riders and leaders say it’s just part of life and they’ll soldier on.

Morning Light On The Island

 Another early morning ride to City Island. Check out the light: