Henry Miller's Best Friend

In an earlier post, I mused about the relative lack of serious literature about bicycles, bicycling and cyclists.  

What's puzzling is that such a void exists even with the number of well-known writers of the past 120 years or so who were cyclists.

Among them is Henry Miller:

From "The Daily Bike" in Adventure Journal

In My Bike And Other Friends, he wrote, "After a time, habituated to so many hours a day on my bike, I became less and less interested in my friends.  My wheel had now become my one and only friend.  I could rely on it, which is more than I could say about my buddies.  It's too bad no one ever photographed me with my friend.  I would give anything now to know what we looked like."

A Brief Post-Storm Ride

I'm still not feeling that great today.  But I did have the day off from classes, so I rested.  When I got tired of that, I took a late bike ride.

Along the way, in Ozone Park, I made this interesting find:

I'm trying to find more information about the rather attractive but otherwise unremarkable building:

At least it seems to have weathered Superstorm Sandy and last week's Nor'easter.  The same cannot be said for a house I saw about three miles down the road:

Like many houses in Howard Beach and Lindenwood, it incurred more damage on the inside than out.  The exteriors of most of those houses didn't seem much changed by the wind and rain; it probably would've been difficult to tell that a storm had passed were it not for the bags and piles of debris in front of them.

For once, I wouldn't have complained if someone were blocking the bike lane!  I was grateful, though, that no one was.

At least I didn't have to contend with anything like this:

Even if the tree were still sounding, the scene would have looked foreboding.  Lately, the overcast skies, which I often welcome, seem that way.

Jamaica Bay and the ocean are just beyond those bare trees and reeds.

Buffalo Soldier Cyclists

Today is the real Veterans' Day, a.k.a. Armistice Day.

So, I thought it would be interesting to mention an aspect of American military history I recently stumbled over.

You may have seen the 2001 film Buffalo Soldiers or read the Robert O'Connor novel on which it is based.  You've probably heard the excellent Bob Marley song by the same name.  And you may know that they were the first peacetime regiments consisting of African-Americans.  The 9th, 10th, 24th and 25th Cavalry Regiments were officially called The Negro Cavalry but have been better-known by their nickname.

What you may not know is that in 1896, the 25th Regiment--stationed in Missoula, Montana--set out on several cross-country rides across some of the most rugged topography in the Americas.  The purpose of those rides was to test the viability of bicycles as alternatives to horses for transportation.   General Nelson A. Miles had been advocating for bicycle courier units in the Army because bikes had several advantages over our bovine friends:  they are less expensive to keep, smaller and quieter.  Also, they don't get sick, tired or thirsty.  (That last consideration would be very important in the arid areas of the western US.)  

In their first outing--a 126-mile trip to Lake McDonald and back--each man rode a bicycle that, when loaded down, weighed 76 pounds.  The roads were unpaved; in the rain,they turned to mud.  After crossing Mission Creek, they had to re-cement their tires to the wooden rims (!). 

In spite of breakdowns and delays, the mission was declared a success, and a longer ride followed.  On that trek, the soldiers covered 790 miles in 16 days and visited Yellowstone Park.  

Bicycle Corps and Minerva Terrace, Yellowstone National Park, 1897.  Photo by Frank Jay Haynes.



The following year, they took a 1900-mile journey to St. Louis and back.  (In those days, on a journey from the East to West Coasts, St. Louis would be the last major city one would encounter before reaching San Francisco.)  In 34 days of riding, the soldiers averaged 56 miles per day.  That was much more ground than could be covered on horseback, and at an average speed of 6.3 miles per hour.  A report written at the end of the trip concluded, "The practical result of the trip shows that an Army Bicycle Corps can travel twice as fast as cavalry or infantry under any conditions, and at one third the cost and effort."

After that experiment, bicycle regiments became a regular feature of the military in many countries until 2001, when Switzerland disbanded its 110-year-old bicycle brigade.

Apart from how inherently fascinating the story of the Buffalo Soldier cyclists is as history, I find two other aspects of it interesting.  First of all, these African-American soldiers were showing the effectiveness of the bicycle at around the same time Major Taylor, the greatest bicycle racer of that era, became the first African-American athlete to win a world championship in any sport. (Canadian boxer George Dixon was the first black man to accomplish such a feat.)  Second, I find it both interesting and disturbing that an African-American regiment was chosen for what was one of the most arduous and dangerous experiments of that time.  

But, in the eyes of both military officials and civilians, the bicycle showed that it was able and ready for a changing world.  African-Americans were as well, but it would take decades for most other Americans to see them that way.