Preserved?

Every generation or so, someone finds a tool or other artifact, a piece of human remains, or even a wooly mammoth encased in ice.

Whenever I have learned of such things, I wondered how those people and creatures and things got themselves cryogenically preserved without the aid of Bird’s Eye.  Did a glacier overtake them from behind?  Did the temperature suddenly drop when they were underdressed?  Or were they buried in snow by some stone proto-plow?

(I read somewhere that Clarence Birdseye came up with the idea of deep-freezing fresh vegetables during an ice-fishing trip in the Yukon.  But I digress.)

I found myself speculating on these frosty aspects of our natural history when I saw a report showing cars encased in ice while parked alongside New York City streets.  Apparently, they were buried in snow plowed off traffic lanes.  Since the weather between snow- and ice-storms hasn’t remained warm enough for long enough for snow to melt, today’s snow is piled on top of last week’s layer, which in turn was dumped on the previous week’s accumulations—which turns to water from the pressure, then freezes.  

If I correctly recall what I learned an ice age ago in the one and only geology course I took, those benighted Buicks and unfortunate Toyotas were caught up in a process identical to the one that forms glaciers.  The difference is, of course, that plows don’t push new snow onto the old:  Instead, the snow that’s turning to ice is blanketed from above.

If we are indeed entering a New Ice Age, will some future hiker of climber find fenders, hubcaps or even whole cars englaciated in the remains of our urban lanes and country roads?  Or will they find tri-spoke wheels and frames that look as if they were designed by Salvador Dali tethered by a rusted Kryptonite lock to the pole of a parking meter encased in an ice cube too big for a glass of artificially colored and sweetened fizzy water?

Some Of My Old Commuter/Beater Bikes

I am both delighted and amused that Bike Boom-era ten-speeds are en vogue, at least with certain (mostly young and urban) segments of the population. 

Go to Bushwick, Brooklyn or any other enclave of the young and self-consciously hip (and bohemian poor) and you’ll find flocks of vinage Fujis, packs of old Peugeots, ranks of stalwart Raleighs and gaggles of Gitanes and other classic names promenading through plazas or chained to railings.

One reason is, of course, that such bikes are—as long as they haven’t been crashed, submerged in a deluge or otherwise abused—as good now as they were then.  While nobody would try to race those bikes, most of which had mild steel frames and cottered cranks, they offer rides that are reasonably quick yet comfortable.  The frames geometry, while maligned by racers and other performance-oriented riders, make the bikes versatile in ways that few contemporary bikes are.  That is the reason why so many have been converted to single- and fixed-gear urban cruisers.

What that means, of course, is that such bikes sell—especially in New York and other urban areas—for far more than they did a few years ago.  Even so, it’s often less expensive to buy such a bike, convert it and add racks, baskets or whatever else one likes, than it is to buy a new “urban” or “Dutch” (really, some marketer’s idea of “Dutch”) bike.

However, I can recall a time when Bike-Boom era ten-speeds could be had for a song, or even less.  As I recall, that time commenced around the mid-‘80’s, when mountain bikes became the machines of choice for the few (at least here in the US) bicycle commuters and “ride around the park every other Sunday” cyclists of the time.  Most people who bought ten-speeds in the ‘70’s and early ‘80’s rode them only for a short time before relegating them to garages, basements, barns and other “out of sight, out of mind” sites.  Eventually, they’d be sold in garage or estate sales, or even given away.  Some people used them in trade-ins for mountain (or, later, hybrid) bikes, so old ten-speeds could be had for very little money even from bike shops.  

For years—about a decade and a half, in fact—I used such bikes for commuters and “beaters”.  When I could, I rode them “as is”—of course, after inflating the tires, lubing the chains and such.  Usually, I changed the saddle and one or two other parts, and added a rear rack and fenders if the bike didn’t already have them.  As parts (usually wheels) broke down or wore out, I replaced them, sometimes with parts I had on hand or friendly shops allowed me to scavenge.  My ability to build wheels came in handy, as I could get discontinued models of rims cheaply and re-use the hubs that came with the bike, or get inexpensive replacements.

From the mid-‘80’s to the mid-‘90’s, bike theft was (I believe) even more rampant than it is now.  That was a further incentive to use such bikes, as losing one wasn’t as much of a financial (or emotional) blow as losing one of my better bikes would have been.  On average, I would say that I would ride one of those bikes about a year before losing it to a thief.

None of my photographs included any with any of those bikes in it.  However, I can recall, fairly accurately, each of those bikes and when I rode it.  I will list them below:  The year or decade in parentheses is the time, as best as I could determine, the bike was manufactured.  The year(s) on the right side indicate when I used the bikes.

Follis Tour de France (1960’s).  1985-87.  Stolen.

Raleigh Record (1960’s or early 1970’s). 1987-89. Stolen.

Jeunet (1960’s or early 1970’s). 1989-90. Crashed.

Peugeot U-09 (1978).  1990.  Stolen.

Motobecane Mirage (1960’s-early 1970's).  1990-92. Crashed.

Windsor (model unknown, 1970’s). 1995-97.  Loaned it to someone who later bought it.

Atala (model unknown, 1960’s). 1997-2001. Cracked after landing from a jump.

Motobecane Nobly (1970’s). 2001-2002. Was too big; sold it.

Frozen Retreat

This winter, it’s seemed that days without precipitation have been merely interludes between snowstorms.  The funny thing is that none of those storms has left a particularly large accumulation of the white stuff.

The worst part, though, is that the temperature has rarely risen above freezing on those days when it hasn’t snowed.  So, if the snow wasn’t plowed, shoveled or salted, it sits on top of the stuff that already covered the ground.  The deepest parts have turned to ice.

Much of the glacier-in-the-making I’ve described has formed on the streets I normally ride to work.  Even the main streets and roads, which are plowed more regularly, are dotted with ice patches and lined by what look like stretched-out icebergs.

In other words, conditions are treacherous for cyclists.  I haven’t been riding to work, let alone for sport, because I simply don’t see the point of risking myself in that way.  Perhaps if I had studded tires, I’d take the chance.  I’ve never bought a pair because winters like this one are rather unusual for this part of the world:  In most years, there might be only a few years in which such treads would be useful.

Although I miss riding, I don’t feel guilty about not being in the saddle.  About the only riders I’ve seen during the past couple of weeks are men—yes, men—delivering lunches, dinners and snacks from restaurants and pizzerias. 

This weekend, I participated in a retreat about 100 km up the Hudson River, near Ossining.  I was without my, or any other, computer and my cell phone was turned off.   I remained offline yesterday, the day after I returned.

 Of course, I thought about how I could have ridden to the retreat had the weather been different.  There was even more snow and ice up there and the bike lane along US 9 was not plowed.  

Still, I enjoyed the retreat.  How could I not, given its setting?

It’s been years since I’ve seen so much of the Hudson River frozen.  Of course, one day—perhaps weeks, perhaps a couple of months from now—it will thaw and the bare trees will bud.  Perhaps I’ll ride up there for another retreat

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