A French Dutch City Bike Leads To Romance

Can you guess what comany made this bike, or even where it was made?

At first glance, it looks like a Dutch bike, doesn't it?  And, in many ways, it resembles one.  But it's at least a few pounds lighter.


I'll show you the men's version of this bike:

Its owner added braided cable housing,toe clips, a TA one-clamp water bottle cage and a Brooks saddle bag.  Even if you can't see the decals, there's one detail that should give you a clue as to where these bikes were made.


The headlight has a yellow lens.  Until recently, the bikes (and cars) sold in a particular European country came so equipped.  That country is, of course, France.


Now do you know who made these bikes?  Clue:  They were the largest bicycle manufacturer, and one of the leading auto-makers, in Gaul.  Oh, yeah, and they made those great pepper mills.


Yes, those bikes were made by Peugeot.  When I worked at Highland Park Cyclery, I actually sold one of the women's version.  Back in 1982, there was practically no demand for such bikes in the US.  And, no "serious" cyclist rode anything but a diamond (a.k.a. "men's") frame. But the customer wanted a stable, upright, sturdy bike.  Plus, she liked the style of it.


She wore a skirt when I was fitting the bike to her.  She mentioned, just casually (ahem!)  that she had long legs for a woman her height.  As if I hadn't noticed...


Our relationship lasted, if I recall correctly, about a year.  Looking back, I'm surprised it held as long as it did:  I was in my early 20's and she was about a dozen years older.  She was a surprisingly durable rider, and was a writer. However, beyond cycling and writing, we didn't have much in common.  Plus, as the self-help folks like to say, each of us  had our issues.  


Still, I have some rather fond memories of riding with her.  And, I am responsible for the only sale of the women's version of that bike--the Peugeot VX-40--at Highland Park Cyclery.  In 1982, that was no small feat, if I do say so myself!

Smooth Sailing

On a hot day, one of the best ways to end a bike ride is with a boat ride.  That I did today on the Staten Island Ferry, after a ride on Helene that took me up the Bronx cliffs, across Manhattan, down the New Jersey Palisades into Hoboken, Jersey City and Bayonne, then, finally, over the bridge into Staten Island.


One of the nice things about riding on a hot day with low humidity, as I did today, is that the weather isn't nearly as oppressive as it is with high humidity.  On the other hand, if you're like me, you drink anything and everything in sight.  Still, I think I got to the Ferry less fatigued than these guys:

Helene is in front; the bikes behind her were ridden by the two recliners.  At least nobody can be accused of reading over this guy's shoulder!:

As befitting a high-class English lady with some French culture, Helene was her usual modest self:

With her, the ride was definitely smooth sailing:

L'Enfer du DUMBO

I've been to Hell.


All right.  I confess (Do you still go to Hell if you confess):  I wrote that first sentence to get your attention.  I didn't see lakes of fire or papal prelates or industrial/military plutocrats with encased in ice up to their necks.  And I didn't have an out-of-body experience.

But I did ride over something that, on a fixed-gear bike, can very closely resemble Hell:

Riding over this street made me think of the Paris-Roubaix race, often called L'Enfer du Nord (The Hell of the North).  Every year in April, the race organizers look for the roads in northern France and Belgium with the pointiest cobblestones or with all sorts of other hazards.

Bernard Hinault is a five-time Tour de France winner and very old-school racer:  Unlike, say, Lance, he used to ride--and, very often, win--all sorts of races all over Europe.  But he flatly refused to ride in L'Enfer.  It's hard to blame him:  He had chronic tendinitis in one knee, a condition that caused him to abandon the 1980 Tour de France while he was wearing the leader's yellow jersey.  Finally, the following year, he rode Paris- Roubaix--the only time he would do so--and won.  


Wouldn't you like to see a race like that run through DUMBO, where I took the photo?  From there, such a race could spin through other nearby industrial areas along the Brooklyn waterfront.  There are also other areas--most of them industrial or post-industrial--with Belgian cobblestones like the ones you see in the photo.  


When I had a mountain bike with shocks, I used to ride over those streets for fun.  The experience was still jarring, because most mountain bike shocks are designed to keep the bike stable rather than to cushion the rider.  It's the kind of joyously harebrained thing you do when you're young--or, as I was, full of testosterone (and, possibly, other substances).  


After bouncing along the DUMBO cobblestones, I stopped in Recycle A Bicycle, where I have been volunteering.  The young woman there was working on this bike:

She assured me that the paint job was as it appeared to me; I was not seeing an optical illusion induced by the ride I'd just done!