Clothes Make The Man (Or Woman) At The Show

Let's go back to the future.  Actually, let's go back to the time when the movie by that name was on the big screens.

Around 1984 or 1985, it seemed that there was another new brand of imported (usually German, Dutch or Belgian) beer being served every week in the bars and restaurants of Soho, Back Bay and the Mission District.  Likewise, it seemed that new brands of bike clothing were appearing in bike shops with the same frequency.  That meant, of course, that there were a number of new lines of  shorts, jerseys and such at the bike shows. 

After a while, though, they started to look the same.  Don't get me wrong:  I did develop some favorites, based on fit, looks and other features.  However, by that time, most bike clothing was being made from Lycra, and was meant for racers or wannabes.  And, save for a couple of domestic brands, most came from Italy. 

Now let's fast-forward to the present--to this year's New Amsterdam Bike Show, to be exact.  Given that the show was held in downtown Manhattan, it was all but inevitable that clothes would be featured.  (And, yes, there was a bicycle fashion show.) But the threads were not the kind you'll see in the pro peloton, or even in a local race.  Instead, they were made for "real" cyclists.

In other words, they were made for people who ride to and from work, or to shop, go to art openings and such--or for sport and recreation.  The makers of those vetements were also thinking of people who will ride regardless of the time of day or weather.

One of the most fascinating exhibits, to my eye, was that of Vespertine.  Designer (and company founder) Sarah Canner was showing vests and sashes that, in daylight, don't look anything like what construction workers and traffic patrol officers wear.  Most interesting of all were a vest with a feather boa and a sort of short trench jacket that one could wear to an office or art opening.  They have reflective threads sewn that are not noticeable in ordinary light but, when headlights shine on them at night, glow brighter than almost any other reflective material you've seen.

I have been told that reflective clothing that looks like ordinary street wear has been available in Portland and San Francisco for several years.  But Vespertine, based only a few blocks from the New Amsterdam show, might bring the shine to the Big Apple.

Until recently, rainwear was just about as hip and fashionable as reflective wear was before companies like Vespertine came along.  Now, it seems, Cleverhood ( in Providence, Rhode Island) is doing for rainwear what Vespertine is doing for reflective gear:  making outerwear that is practical for cycling and other outdoor activities, but can be worn when off the bike or trail. 

There were other clothing exhibitors, but I'll mention just one more:  Twin Six of Minneapolis.   Part of the reason I'm including them is that Twin Six's Mark Fischer is one of the more interesting people I met at the show.  But his products are also worth mentioning:  caps, cycling jerseys, T-shirts and other bike-related apparel.  The main reasons to consider Twin Six are that their stuff seems well-made and (more important to you, I'm sure!) that they have their own sense of style.  You won't find the "billboard" graphics that dominate the team kit of major (and many minor) races.  Their prints and colors are also found on their messenger bags and water bottles, which I did not see at the show but are shown on their website.

Build, Ride And Show

All right.  Because you've all been such good readers, and I've been to a bike show, I'm going to treat you to some "bike porn."  However, I'm going to show you some important but not-so-flashy stuff first.

In an earlier post, I started to talk about some of the ways in which this year's New Amsterdam Bike Show was different from shows I attended in days gone by.  I mentioned the emphasis on utilitarian bikes.  As much as I love to ride for sport and recreation, I'm glad that some bikemakers are actually seeing, and selling, their wares as alternatives to cars.

In that regard, the bikes that impressed me the most are those from Yuba Bicycles.  They're probably the nearest two-wheeled equivalent to pickup trucks and vans.  The bikes are actually equipped with a "flatbed" in the rear.  Onto it one can attach seats, oversized panniers and even shelves. I've been told that these bicycles have been used to move the entire contents of apartments and houses, not to mention surfboards, stereo systems and such.

Yuba bikes must be seen to be believed.  These bikes are not for anyone who has even the slightest pretense of being a racer.  The wheelbase of a Yuba is nearly four times as long as that of Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike! 

The spiritual grandparent, if you will, of Yuba might be Worksman Cycles, who still make their machines in Ozone Park, Queens--just a few miles from my apartment.  I've mentioned Worksman in a previous post, and meeting Bruce Weinreb, the company's Director for Custom Programs and Special Markets,only deepened my respect for their products, and for the company itself.  Their industrial bikes are used all over the world, and countless pizzas have been delivered on their bikes.  They can be great alternatives to cars and trucks, if for no other reason than they usually outlast, often by decades, their gas-guzzling counterparts.

They also make tricycles.  I see at least a couple every time I go to Florida.  However, they're not only for those who can no longer (or never could) ride two wheels:  The space between the two rear wheels is all but ideal for baskets, bags and other ways of hauling cargo.  They also make a Special Edition:  the model you see in the photo.  Ten percent of the purchase price of each of those bicycles is donated to the Wounded Warrior Project.

Gazelle, which has long been noted for its city bikes with internally-geared hubs, is also making a bike out of recycled materials.  A lighting system is built into the bike:  The headlight is found where a head badge would normally be installed, and the tail light is under the seat.  Both are solar-powered, and are said to store more power--and use it more efficiently--than earlier solar-powered bicycle lights.

Another utility bike I saw at the show has a lineage almost as long as that of Worksman or Gazelle bicycles.  Actually, I first encountered it two nights before the show, in Tribeca's Adeline!  Adeline!, where I attended a party intended to launch Bobbin, a British maker of city and transport bikes, in the USA.   

At first glance, most people would think it's a folding bike or, if they're more knowledgeable about bikes, a replica of an early Moulton. However, there's no way to fold the bike, and about the only thing this bike has in common with the Moulton is its small wheel size.  It's what's known in Albion as a "shopper."  People ride them to marketplaces because their low profile makes them easy to mount and dismount when they're loaded, and easy to maneuver through the narrow aisles and crowds of people in marketplaces.  

All right, now that you've stayed with this post, I'm going to deliver on what I promised.  First off is a Horse track bicycle.  Check out the lugwork and paint:

 Here's one of their touring bikes:

And how can you not love a trussed frame like this one from Benjamin Cycles?: 

  
 Benjamin and Horse are both based in Brooklyn, NY.  Could we see the day when a model called "Greenpoint" or "Bensonhurst" has the same cachet as one called "l'Alpe d'Huez" or "Stelvio"?

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!)