I found it interesting to read this New Zealander's take on cycling in New York City.
Author Stephen Lacey came before the launch of the Bike Share program, but he identifies some of the things that will be necessary to its success--and to make New York a more generally bike-friendly city.
The greatest hazard, he says, are pedestrians. The problem is that they sometimes wander into bikelanes or try to cross them at mid-block. Also, runners as well as skateboarders and rollerbladers often use bike lanes as their tracks, where they indiscriminately step, turn or flip in front of cyclists who have no room to maneuver.
He attributes this state of affairs to something I've mentioned on other posts in this blog: the lack of what I like to call "the human infrastructure" of cycling. We can build all of the lanes we want and expand bike share programs, but they won't make this or any other city more hospitable for cyclists if pedestrians, drivers and others who share public spaces aren't aware of, or choose to disregard, cyclists. That awareness and courtesy is the real difference, I believe, between the more bike-friendly capitals of Europe and cities like New York.
Finally, Lacey noticed another difference that I have also seen as a result of having traveled: New York cyclists, he says, don't have the "cafe culture" that cyclists in his home country (and, I've noticed, much of Europe) enjoy. "We didn't see any road riders meeting in groovy espresso shops in Manhattan or Brooklyn for an apres-ride caffeine fix, " he says.
While there are a few bike shops that include coffee and snack bars, and some "groovy" cafes that try to attract and accommodate cyclists, I think he's right in noticing that there isn't a culture around such things, just as people don't grow up with an awareness of how to interact with bicycles.
Hmm...Could having more cycle cafes--or more cyclists congregating in cafes--be the thing we need to create a human infrastructure of cycling?
Most of you will probably never see me dance. Consider yourselves lucky. Trust me.
Of the things I can't do, dancing is probably the thing I most wish I could. An actual dancer may beg to differ, but I always had the impression that dancers come closest to creating a jeu d'esprit with the human body.
Probably the closest I come to that is when I ride my bicycle, however gracelessly and (these days) slowly.
Dancers. as we know, often perform solo. However, at their best, they're always dancing with someone or something. Often, I think, it's with the audience, at least figuratively. Also, they're performing duets or in concert with their surroundings, their memories and the temper of their times.
The other day, I danced with Arielle. We traipsed across bridges, rolled through tenement valleys in the Bronx and waltzed, it seemed, across fields and woods that lined the roads just beyond the suburban sprawl of Westchester County. It also felt as if we were leaping across brooks and streams and along the coastline of Long Island Sound.
I had no destination in particular, but about three hours later, we ended up In Stamford, CT. Look at what welcomed us to the city:
Stamford sculptor James Knowles created Dancing Girl in bronze. In 1987, a local businessman and his wife donated it to the city,where it was displayed in front of the Old Town Hall for fourteen years. Fourteen years later, it was "temporarily" removed for a renovation to the plaza. For the next nine years, the girl languished in captivity, I mean, storage. Finally, three years ago, it was re-dedicated.
Who says art has no effect on anything? I felt lighter as I started to pedal home, even though I was, within a few minutes, making a fairly long (though not particularly steep) climb. Oh, yes, I had a breeze at my back. But I think the girl was guiding me and Arielle, in spirit.
Here's another example of a bike that, as I rode by it, caught my eye for a reason I couldn't discern until I stopped to look:
It's a Motobecane mixte from the early 1980's--the "Nobly" model, I believe. I assembled and sold a few of them back in the day. This one is a basic model, made from carbon steel tubing and with stamped dropouts that don't have a threaded "ear" to mount a derailleur. If I recall correctly, it came with a Huret Eco derailleur, mounted with a "claw", as derailleurs often were on low- to mid-level ten- and twelve-speeds.
One thing I know, though, is that it didn't come with this component:
By the time this Motobecane was made, very few (if any) off-the-shelf bikes came equipped with the Specialtes TA Vis-5 (commonly called the "Cyclotouriste") crankset. By the 1980's, even European touring bikes were coming with more modern triple cranksets from Stronglight, Sugino and Shimano, which didn't require as many mounting bolts--and, by which time, offered just about the same range of gears--as the TA.
It's also incongruous to see the crank on this particular model because it was intended as a "sport" or "ville" bike. While a few Rene Herse city bikes were equipped with TA Cyclotouriste cranksets (particularly if the owner lived in a hilly city), a bike like the one in the photo was more likely to have a double or single chainwheel in front.
(For the record, I'm almost entirely sure that the bike in the photo originally had a Japanese-made Sakae Ringyo (SR) crankset.)
What I find really incongruous, though, is the fact that the TA crankset, which is intended for triple and wide-range double chainwheels, used as a single-speed. It's a bit like using a Swiss Army knife to open a candy bar wrapper.
I wonder whether the bike's owner, or whoever installed the crankset (the same person?), realizes that he or she could sell the crankset on eBay for more than what he or she could get for the rest of the bike.
