What If Ripley Had Written A Book About Bicycling?

Perhaps you've never pondered the question posed in the title of this post.  Now's your chance.  Actually, I'll give you one possible answer I stumbled upon.


It seems there's a particular kind of whimsy that only the English can do.  And, as best as I can tell, the Brits are the only ones who've applied that sort of mirth to cycling.


And then there is the kind of humor that only the Curry Cycle Co. of Leicester could do.   

Curry placed a series of cartoons called "Strange But True" in British cycling magazines during the early part of the 20th Century. Those cartoons were compiled by a correspondent with the nom de plume of "Wheeler" and were drawn by well-known Leicester artist Frank Layton.  He also designed Curry's head badge.


One of my favorite of the series in No.2, which includes the high-wire cyclist and one of the best epitaphs ever written:


On this spot at half-past nine o'clock, after watching the glorious sunset of Aug 3rd 1904, Thomas Gilbert Smith, M.D., aged 56, fell dead from his bicycle.  Thunder and lightning immediately followed.


Henry Curry started building bicycles in 1884. His brothers joined in the business, and they continued building until 1932, when they began to sell Hercules cycles badged as Currys. They continued with the latter arrangement until some time during the 1960's, when Hercules, along with most British bicycle manufacturers, were absorbed by Raleigh.

On A Clear Road You Can Ride Forever?

Even the most jaded of us are marveling at the weather we've been having.  Yesterday and the day before, the temperature reached 75F (24C), which is more typical of what we have in June.  And not so much as a wisp of cloud smudged the blue skies.  Such clouds gathered over the course of this day; the air grew cooler and the wind blew harder.  Still, it was a fine day to ride.


These few days have followed one of the mildest winters most of us can recall. Strangely, the only significant snow fell at the end of October; since then, we've had a couple of bouts of flurries but no accumulations.  In spite of this lack of snow, the season has not seemed unusually dry, though I can't recall any long stretches of rain.


This weather, needless to say, has been a boon to those of us who ride bicycles.  However, it has brought another benefit that I noticed as I rode today.

I can't recall seeing the streets so clear at this time of the year.  Last year, in the aftermath of the seemingly endless procession of snowstorms we had, the streets were full of sand and salt.  The weather, and the sand and salt, meant that there were even more potholes and other breaks in the pavement than one would normally find.


What made things worse was that there were also other kinds of debris:  everything from broken bottles to car parts.  The snowstorms hindered, or even precluded, trash pickup.  So, refuse left at curbside took flight when the wind gusted, or simply got pushed or brushed aside from passing cars and pedestrians.  


This year, I've noticed that the only streets that have a lot of problems with potholes and other instructions are the ones that carry a lot of truck traffic.  In most of the residential areas, like my neighborhood, the streets seem fairly smooth.


Hmm...I wonder if I should be saying all of these things.  If City officials are reading this, they might think they can cut the street cleaning and maintenance budget.  And, although I know, rationally, that I have no influence on the weather, something in the back of my mind tells me that I'm going to "jinx" us for next winter.


What can I say?  I'm glad for what we've had and wouldn't mind more of it.

Leaving In A Fog

She is British.  She lived her entire life in England before I brought her over in July.  So it makes sense that Vera would be accustomed to weather like we had last night.


Upon leaving work, I encountered the densest fog I can recall having seen in New York.  I literally could not see from one corner to the next, a distance of about 150 metres.  Yet, I didn't feel I had to make much of an effort to get home:  She seemed to be able to find the way.  All I had to do was pedal, and that wasn't so hard.