There are very few things that make more kids happier than finding a bike under the Christmas tree. Of course, for many--especially in these economic times--such a thing seems out of the bounds of possibility.
Someone I know in North Carolina has sent me word about a charity that's doing something for kids whose parents (or whoever is raising them) can't afford to give them bikes for Christmas.
Triangle Spokes Group is named for the "Research Triangle" of Raliegh-Durham-Chapel Hill, which is the organization's home base. This is the sixth year TSG is giving away bikes and helmets to needy kids in their area. Their goal for Christmas 2012 is 500 bikes and helmets. They're able to get a bike and a helmet for $70 from Huffy. What that means, of course, is that they need money, which can be donated through their website.
If any of you know of organizations in your own area, or some other, that's doing similar work, please leave a comment with your contact information.
One thing that my involvement with Hurricane Sandy relief efforts has shown me is that it's the small, locally-based organization that are most effective in helping. When I went to the Rockaways, I saw groups from various schools, colleges, universities and houses of worship (including the Sikh Temple of Queens, as well as various unaffiliated individuals, helping people who said they hadn't seen anyone from the Red Cross or FEMA. So I am especially pleased to see an organization like TSG doing what it's dooing.
It seems that fall, as we normally think of it, has come late to this area this year. Perhaps it has to do with Hurricane Sandy and the subsequent nor'easter, as well as the mild October weather that preceded them.
When I say "fall has come later", I'm thinking about the kind of light and the feel of the air. Also, I'm thinking about the trees (the ones that are still standing, anyway), which seem to have shed their leaves later and have not taken on the sere, wizened facades so many of them have by this time of year.
Maybe the lateness of the season is one reason why Tosca was so enjoying this part of an after-work ride:
Admit it: You're not above taking a roll in the leaves. Tosca is a fine traveling companion; she's entitled.
As she so frolicked, I noticed that the house directly in front of us is for sale:
For decades, members of the Steinway family lived here, in the Astoria Mansion. At one time, part of their piano workshop was housed on the grounds. When that business grew (i.e., when Steinway pianos came to be regarded among the world's best), they had to build a bigger factory a few blocks away.
Michael Hiberian died about a year and a half ago after living all of his 82 years in the house. He'd put the house up for sale a few months before breathing his last in it; now his son is trying to unload it. At the time the house was put on the market, it had a potential buyer at $5 million. But that deal fell through, and the current owner is looking for $3 million.
I've never been inside, but from what I'm told, it's even more impressive there than from where I stood. The problem is that it's in, ironically, what might be the least desirable location in Astoria. When the house was built, it was surrounded by meadows that rolled into the bay. The house, on the highest hill in the area, had some expansive views, to say the least. But now the house has an even better view of the Con Ed powerplant along the shore--and the bridge to Rikers Island. Also, in the area around the mansion are warehouses and a cement plant.
Anyway, from there, I continued to ride along the water, past LaGuardia Airport and the World's Fair Marina, to a waterfront area I hadn't seen before--at College Point.
My bikes just love waterfronts and sunsets!
What is your idea of a "city bike"?
Some--including Grant Petersen of Rivendell--think that an old mountain bike with a good rack is, if not ideal, then at least the best possible.
Others, such as hipsters and some messengers would tell you that a fixed-gear bike is the only thing you should ride in the concrete canyons. They would argue for the sheer simplicity of it. A few would even go for a pure track bike with no brakes and a tight wheelbase, which makes them maneuverable.
Then there are those who want a plush bike to ride over sewer grates, potholes and all of the other hazards of the urban landscape. Such riders--particularly those who do no other riding but their commutes--might opt for a hybrid or mountain bike with suspension in the front fork, and even in the rear. Or they might ride cruisers or other fat-tired bikes.
There's also the English three-speed camp. They are probably the most immune to fads: Such riders will clatter along on their vintage Raleighs, Dunelts, Rudges and other machines from Albion. Because they're immune to fads (at least in bikes), they never think of their mounts as "vintage," even if they those bikes were made before they were born.
Cousins, if you will, to the English three-speed crowd are the ones who like Dutch-style city bikes. Some might also argue that these cyclists are variants of the comfort-bike crowd. The difference is that, not only are the Dutch bikes built for comfort and durability, they also come with features that you may have never thought of having on your bike but "might come in handy", such as built-in locks and lighting.
And then there are those who like the speed and nimbleness of the road bike, but want a more upright riding position and a bit more style. They're the ones who ride French-style city bikes and porteurs, which are based wholly or in part by the elegant machines made by constructeurs such as Rene Herse and Alex Singer.
Finally, there are the rat-rodders. In other words, any bike that looks like it's been to hell and back is the right bike for the city. Lots of cyclists here in New York follow that credo, which makes a lot of sense when you have to park your bike in high-theft areas. The rat-rod can be just about any kind of bike; these days, the majority (at least here in New York) seem to be ten- or twelve-speeds from the '70's or '80's, or mountain bikes from the '90's. Think of the guy (Yes, he's almost always a guy.) who delivers your supper from the Chinese restaurant or diner: He probably brought your meal on a "rat-rod."
A variant on the rat-rodder is the urban cyclist who rides a Frankenbike. You've seen them: the Specialized Rockhoppers with Schwinn Varsity rear wheels; the Peugeot ten-speeds with high-rise bars and forks in a color (and style) that clashes with everything else on the bike.
In the nearly three decades in which I've been riding in New York, and through the years I biked the boulevards of Paris---and while biking on trips to other large cities like London, Prague, Amsterdam and San Francisco, I have seen my notions of the "ideal" city bike evolve and change. Sometimes I want comfort; other times, I want a bike that I can leave in urban combat zones as well as those areas--like the neighborhood around St. Mark's Place--to which thieves gravitate. At times, I've craved speed and the ability to slice between parked cars and belching buses; at other times, I've worried about preserving dental work. But I've always thought about what's practical for my errands, commutes and other ride-and-park activities like shopping. And, of course, I've changed, and so has the city in which I live.
What's your ideal city bike? Has your idea of it changed? If so, how?
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