25 June 2012

The Meeting

The scholar and critic Cleanth Brooks probably did more than anyone else to champion a generation of Southern writers that included John Crowe Ransom, Allen Tate, Robert Penn Warren and, especially, William Faulkner.


In spite of their correspondence, which spanned more than half a century,Brooks and Faulkner supposedly met only once.  That meeting lasted several hours.  It is said that they did not talk about literature, or even anything else related to the arts, culture or history.  Instead, being true Southern men of their generation, they talked about fishing and 'coon hunting.


So why, you're probably asking yourself, am I mentioning these things on this blog?


Well, I found myself thinking about the story of the Brooks/Faulkner "summit" after meeting "Velouria", the author of the Lovely Bicycle! blog, during the weekend of the New Amsterdam Bike Show.


I discovered her blog--which, at the time, had been running for a few months--when I was recuperating from my surgery nearly three years ago.  I left comments on some of her posts.  An exchange of e-mails ensued and, within a year, with her encouragement, I started this blog.  (Now you know who to blame!;-))


Most of the e-mails we exchanged, interestingly enough, had little or nothing to do with cycling.  Although her upbringing, and much of her early adult life, could hardly have been more different from mine (or so it seemed), we both have had unusual (in different ways) circumstances that, I believe, have led us to see many things in ways that are very different from that of most of our peers. 


When she came to New York, we rode, albeit briefly.  And, of course, she was here for the show.  So it was natural that we talked, at least a little, about bikes and bicycling.  However, I would not say that it dominated the weekend.  Over dinner at Uncle George's and over coffee, we talked about, it seemed, everything but bikes.  I won't get into specifics, but I will say that I found the discussions stimulating because she seems able to get past the hyperbole and cant that too often passes for informed opinion, even among so-called intellectuals.  (Trust me:  I have lots of experience with them!)


You might say that my meeting with Velouria was an inverse of the one between Brooks and Faulkner:  Two men who knew each other via intellectual circles talked about sport, while two women who met via sport talked about culture--both the upper- and lower- case "C" varieties.

24 June 2012

WE Bike And Me






What's gotten into me? 

I mean, what's this with me and volunteering?

It's not as if I haven't volunteered before.  But within the past two weeks, I've begun volunteering with two cycling organizations.  And--quelle coincidence--it turns out that they're going to be working with each other.

I've mentioned my recent experiences with Recycle-A-Bicycle.  I intend to continue working with them as my schedule allows.  It looks like I'll be doing the same--and perhaps more--with a new organization called WE Bike.

I learned of them at the New Amsterdam Bicycle Show, where they had a booth.  Liz, a bike mechanic and youth educator who started the organization only a couple of months ago was at the booth.  And she was under the arches of Grand Army Plaza yesterday, where WE Bike was holding a repair workshop.  

She immediately recognized me.  I didn't think I was so memorable.  Even more interestingly, she mentioned my blog and my Mercians.  Hmm...It's not often that my reputation precedes me.  Is that a good thing?

Anyway, I got there a bit late.  But I went to work right away, showing a woman from the Caribbean island of Dominique how to fix a flat.  She had just purchased her first bicycle, not long after learning how to ride a bicycle as an adult.  

Yesterday, I thought she was mastering what I believe to be the first thing every cyclist should learn to do.  But she apologized.  For what?, I asked.  Then I realized she was doing something I've seen many other women do--and which I've caught myself doing since I started to live as a woman:  apologizing for no particular reason.

"You are officially in a guilt-free zone," I declared. "This circle around me"--I stretched my arms--"is off-limits for gratuitous guilt."  At first, she didn't know what to make of what I said--or, I imagine, me. But then she giggled.  "Don't worry," I said, "You'll be fine."

I was thinking about her as Liz and I talked after the workshop.  We agreed that getting more women to ride, with other women, and learning how to fix their bikes from other women, could help some--especially the young--build their confidence.  Plus, I added, it would help them become more independent. 

Then I thought about my own experiences of working in bike shops.  I don't recall seeing a female mechanic and, in those days, it seemed a lot of shops--including two in which I worked--had a "shop girl" who usually was a salesperson/cashier/hostess/Gal Friday. (I hope I don't seem sexist in using those terms:  I can't think of any others that would accurately describe those roles.)  In other shops--including one in which I worked-- such jobs, along with record-keeping and such, were done by the proprietor's wife.

In recounting those experiences for Liz, I fancied myself, for a moment, as a kind of Prometheus.  Please indulge me if it seems a bit grandiose, but I realized that when I was showing two women how to remove bottom brackets and headsets, and how to true wheels, at Recycle-A-Bicycle, I was passing along knowledge that, in my day, was possessed almost entirely by males.  And I probably wouldn't have learned those skills had I not spent the first four decades of my life as a male.

Or, perhaps--here comes the baggage of my Catholic education!--I am doing penance for all of those times I was one of those awful men who spoke condescendingly to female customers and who was less than helpful with girlfriends who actually wanted to ride bikes with me.  If the work I am doing, and expect to do, is a penance, I suppose I'm lucky:  There are definitely worse and more painful kinds of atonement!

Anyway...I have a feeling that interesting times are ahead for me.


23 June 2012

You Won't Find Wah Chu Need For This Bike Here

While riding to an event at Grand Army Plaza, I found something very interesting:




 This machine doesn't vend sandwiches, ice cream, soda, cupcakes or, ahem, a substance that are legal only in a few states, and only for medicinal purposes. It also doesn't vend fishing bait.   Believe it or not, I actually saw such a machine in Angouleme, France, when I took a bike tour from Paris to the sea at Bordeaux.


The machine in the photo vends bike parts.  At any rate, it offers the stuff people need most often:  inner tubes, small bottles of Tri-Flow and such.  It also offers the caps and T-shirts of the organization that operates it:  Time's Up.


It's located, appropriately enough, in Williamsburg, literally in the shadow of the eponymous bridge.  Next to it is a "receptionist".







In case  you're not from Brooklyn, "'Chu Need" translates as "What do you need?"  I grew up with people who asked me "Wachoo need?"  I guess "'Chu need?" is a contraction of that.


I'd love for someone to teach that in an ESL class!


Now, if what chu need is a part for this bike, you're SOL:




I saw this cute Astra mixte--which, I would guess, is from the 1960's or early 1970's, at a sidewalk sale in Park Slope, just doors from where I used to live.  The shape of the twin laterals is beyond cute:




Here's how it looks at the bottom:












Time's Up's (Strange locution, isn't it?) machine might have an inner tube that fits, but not much else you could use on this bike.  So, if you're restoring this at three in the morning, you're SOL.  To be fair, you'd be in the same situation if you were restoring a 1972 Peugeot PX10 and needed a chainring or a 1969 Cinelli and needed a spring for your Campagnolo Record derailleur.


For the record:  I didn't buy the bike, or anything from the machine.  On the other hand, I did buy some tasty things--including foccacia and sourdough bread--from a Farmer's Market.  Also, I had what is probably the best ice pop I've ever had, from People's Pops, which are made from locally-grown fruits.  I had the plum and sour cherry pop; other options offered were blueberry with herbs and strawberry rhubarb.