When We Pedaled 100 Miles Barefoot In The Snow To Our Training Rides

On Le Col du Lauteret during Le Tour de France, 1930

At the New Amsterdam Bike Show, I bumped into someone who works at a bike shop I've mentioned on this blog.  As it happens, this person and I share similar tastes in bikes and attitudes toward riding.

He recently fixed up a vintage frame with components that were mostly from the same period as the frame.  After taking it out for a ride, he said there was something he simply could not understand:  "How did you climb hills with a 13-21 cluster?"

Back in the day, we didn't use cassettes that mounted on cog carriers on our rear wheels. They weren't available.   Instead, we used freewheels that threaded onto the hub itself.  We usually referred to the cogs that were on the freewheel as a "cluster."  So, a "13-21 cluster" meant that the largest gear had 21 teeth and the smallest, 13. 

SunTour "Winner" freewheel:  one of the best of its era

The ratio I just mentioned was the one most commonly used by racers. Usually, we rode them with front chainrings of 42 and 52 or 53 (or, sometimes, 54) teeth.  To compare, consider that most racers today are riding 12-23 or 12-25 cassettes with 39-53 in the front.

(Experienced cyclists know that in the rear, a smaller sprocket means a higher gear, but a lower gear on the front.)

"Sawtooth" pedals, a.k.a. Campagnolo Pista con denti

I was going to tell me young friend that, yes, we were tougher in those days before video games, i-Phones and such.  Yes, indeed, I would have told him that we pedaled--with our bare feet on "sawtooth" pedals--100 miles through the snow every day to get to our training rides. But my young friend is, of course, intelligent enough not to believe anything like that.  Besides, it's one thing for a middle-aged man who weighs about forty pounds more than he did in his racing days to say such things.  For a middle-aged woman to say it really would have stretched the limits of his credulity.  What I'm really saying in the previous sentence is that I would have simply felt silly telling a story like that.

Anyway, I ventured a few explanations for him.  For one thing, I said, we didn't know as much about cycling injuries in those days, so many of us pedaled and pedaled--in high gears--until we blew out our knees or hurt ourselves in other ways.  We thought we could "pedal through" whatever ailed us. Plus, the prevailing wisdom of the day stressed power rather than a high rate of RPMs. 

Also, I said, bikes and gearing were different.  Eddy Mercx won five Tours with only five gears in his rear cluster.  So, he was riding with ten speeds--in total.  Today, "ten speed" refers to the number of gears (sprockets) in the rear cassette of a typical (Shimano-equipped) racing bike.

What that meant was that the jumps or gaps between gears was much greater on five-speed clusters than it is on ten-speed cassettes with the same range of gears.  That is the reason why the smallest gears were bigger (typically 13 or 14 vs. today's 12 or 11) and the largest were smaller (19, 20 or 21 vs. 23, 24, 25 or even 26) than what's found on racing bikes today.

Back in those days, tourists rode clusters on which the smallest sprocket had 14 teeth and the largest comprised 28, 32, 34 or even 36 teeth. You can see that on a five- (or even six- or seven-) speed cluster, the gaps between gears would be enormous.  Some tourists would overcome that somewhat by having two closely-spaced sprockets (chainrings), along with one that was much smaller (the "granny" gear) in the front.  However, racers and others who ride a lot of training miles prefer smaller differences between gears because those differences are more noticeable on a lightweight bike that's not loaded down with panniers full of clothing and camping equipment.

"Corncob" freewheel.  Yes, I rode this very freewheel, and others like it!

In other words, we were riding those small ("corncob") clusters because of the quirks in the equipment that was available to us, as well as our relative ignorance about cycling injuries.  And, in my case, I had something (besides a few thousand fewer fat cells) in my body that I don't have now:  testosterone.  Of course, my young friend still has that.  So he has no excuse. (Ha, ha!)

In The Bag At The New Amsterdam Bike Show

In "What I Carried In The Original Messenger Bag"--one of my early posts on this blog-- I talked about a role the eponymous bag played in my life.


It may have been the only bag I owned at that time in my life.  Or, I may have had one or two others.  Truth is, I didn't have much I could have carried with them. 


Even so, I was always looking at bags in stores and on street vendors' displays.  After I quit messengering  (I know, such a word doesn't exist, at least not officially!), I went to work for American Youth Hostels.  At the time, they operated an outdoor equipment store and mail order service from the Spring Street headquarters in which I worked. One of the first things I did after getting my first AYH paycheck (which, believe me, wasn't much) was to buy a shoulder bag that I hadn't seen anyone else carrying.  

These days, I seem to end up with more and more bags, even after self-imposed moratoria on buying new ones, and after giving away or selling ones I have.  Even so, I'll look at more bags, as I did today in the Brooklyn Industries outlet store where Lakythia and I stopped during our ride today.


You might say I have a bag fetish. It seems that other cyclists share it.  I say that after seeing how much time and space is devoted to discussions of them on various online fora, and the numbers of them available.  Plus, it seemed that at the New Amsterdam Bike show, which I attended yesterday, there were almost as many displays, and more makers, of bags than bikes.  

There were the classic, traditional saddlebags from Brooks, which also showed a couple of modern shoulder bags, tool rolls and other bags now in their line.  There were also the icons of cordura cartage--namely, messenger bags and backpacks from makers like Timbuk2 and Chrome.

A company called Truce is making some interesting-looking bags--including long backpacks that seem inspired by rock climbers' rucksacks--in just about any kind of bright color you can imagine.  Their name and palette seem to be a rebuke or parody of the pseudo-military imagery other companies try to invoke.  

At the other end of the spectrum, literally as well as figuratively, Elektra is offering canvas panniers that mimic, in many ways, the Berthoud bags--which, in turn, are modern renditions of the French panniers of old.


So, tell me, dear readers:  Do we, as cyclists, have an obsession with bags?  Or was the high number of them displayed at the New Amsterdam show just a passing fad?  Or could it be that there really is much greater interest in--and, thus, a bigger market--for bags because more cyclists want to use their bikes for transportation and in other practical ways?  

A Bike Show, Then And Now

Today I did something I haven't done in nearly three decades:  I attended a bike show.  Specifically, I went to the New Amsterdam bike show in SoHo.


Naturally, I found myself making comparisons to the last show I attended, seemingly a lifetime ago.  That one was held, as the New York Bike Shows were for two decades, in one of the most unloved major buildings in the history of this city:  the New York Coliseum at Columbus Circle.   It was one of those boxy "International" style buildings constructed during the 1950's as part of one of the most cynical and duplicitous pieces of urban planning in the history of American cities, courtesy of Robert Moses.   


On the other hand, this year's New Amsterdam Bike Show was held in Skylight Soho, a renovated loft building that is part of a neighborhood that, around the same time the Coliseum was built, was nearly bulldozed for another one of Moses' schemes:  a cross-Manhattan expressway that would have connected the Holland Tunnel with the Manhattan, Brooklyn and Williamsburg Bridges.  It was one of his few ideas that, fortunately, never came into fruition.


All right, so you're not reading this blog for history lessons and half-baked ideas about architecture.  So I'll talk about some of the differences between the two shows, and how I was a different person at the time of each of them.


At the old bike show, the emphasis was on racing and touring bikes.  Mountain bikes were new; I think there was an exhibit or two of them.  But I don't recall any displays of utility or transportation bikes, which seemed to comprise the majority of bikes I saw at today's show.

Also, most of the companies that displayed at the old show were the "old school" names of the industry.  While a few American framebuilders and manufacturers exhibited, the majority of those who set up at the show were from Europe or Japan.  

On the other hand, most of the companies that showed their wares today were from North America:  mainly from the East and West coasts of the United States.  There were quite a few frame builders, a few manufacturers of bikes and even more smaller operations that made everything from purselike bags that attach to handlebars and racks to reflective clothing that looks just like stuff someone might wear to an art opening.  I'll talk more about some of those products in a future post.  While I liked some ideas and products better than others, I was glad to see all of those (mostly) young artisans, manufacturers and entrepreneurs: The stuff they're making might entice someone to ride his or her bike instead of a car to work or shop, or might entice someone else to ride a bike, period.  In contrast, most of the stuff at the old show had been made for decades and, through all of that time, was liked and disliked by the same people for the same reasons, and would entice no one into cycling for sport or recreation.


I mentioned that most of the people with interesting new ideas and products are young or youngish.  This is another departure from the old bike show, in which many of the companies were represented by the patriarchs of the families who started and owned them.  And, yes, all of them were male.




In fact, the only females I saw at the show back in the day were the wives, girlfriends and daughters of the men who exhibited or attended.  I take that back:  One bike company had a group of young women in lycra (which was new in those days) and high heels pedaling their bikes on a trainer.  


In other words, the women were props and accessories.  I was neither.  Now there were female artisans, entrepreneurs and sales representatives.  And I got to speak with one author.  I hope to be an author.  I can hope for that.  

Another difference between then and now is one that has to do with circumstances of my own life.  When I attended all of those years ago, I went with some guys with whom I worked in the bike shop, the owner, his wife and some of his friends.  I had known them for several years, but now I haven't been in touch with any of them for at least two decades.   Today I went to the New Amsterdam show with someone I had not met until the other day.  However, I have corresponded with this person for nearly three years.  I'll tell you more about that in a future post.  


At the old show, I didn't meet anyone I already knew. At today's show, I saw Charlie from Bicycle Habitat (who had an exhibit) as well as owners and employees of other bikes shops whom I knew at least in passing.  Plus, I met someone I hadn't seen in about a dozen or so years.  She has been a sales rep for one of the few big bike manufacturers I saw at today's show.  The last shop in which I worked sold those bikes, so she was in the shop pretty frequently. 


What did I say to her?  "My, you've changed!"  All right, that was a joke.  In reality, I passed by her table a couple of times before we caught each others' glances.  In a split-second, I did an FBI-style age-progression image in my mind and realized I was looking at an older version of the rep I knew all of those years ago.  Then she took a longer look at me.  "Should I know you from some place?"


The real question wasn't whether or not she should have. The real question was the way she knew me--and I knew her.  


Finally, at the old show, I think one or two cyclists' organizations may have set up tables.  But they didn't have nearly as active a role as the organization at today's expo.  One--which I never would have imagined back in the day--is a group of women who take social and training rides.  I signed up.  Back in the day, I never would have done that.