Where These Tracks Could Lead

Back when I was doing a pretty fair amount of off-road riding, I often sluiced through the hills and gullies of Forest Park in Queens.  I was living in Park Slope then, and the park--which was bigger and less agressively policed than Prospect--was about half an hour away. So, on a spring or summer day, I could get in a ride after work.

Since I sold my Bontrager and stopped riding off-road, I have cycled to Forest Park, but not in it.  That is, until today.

Most of the park lies to the west of Woodhaven Boulevard.  But the part to the east is more thickly wooded and has a few other interesting geological features the other side lacks.  (Or, perhaps, the west side had them but they were obliterated by the golf course, bandshell and other things built there.)  I was riding south, toward JFK airport, when I espied one of the paths I used to ride.  It wasn't very long and ended abruptly in the trotting course, where other cyclists and I used to upset the horse riders.  I didn't see any today.

But I saw something more interesting, at least to me (or in terms of this blog):

 Did I never notice the track all those times I rode off-road?  Or did I forget about it?

When I chanced upon it, a cute tuxedo cat scurried across.  I don't know how long it's been since a train last rumbled and clattered over it, but I'm sure it's been decades.   It parallels a Long Island Rail Road (Yes, it's spelled as two words!) line that runs through another part of the neighborhood.  Perhaps some now-discontinued branch of the line ran here.  Or, maybe, freight trains:  The Atlas Park mall is about a kilometer to the southwest.  It used to be an industrial park (That phrase seems so strange) that, at one time, housed General Electric, Kraft, Westinghouse, New York Telephone and other large companies.  There are still some small factories as well as warehouses near the mall.

Anyway, I can't see abandoned railroad tracks without thinking, "Now this would be a great bike path!"  Old rail lines have been so re-purposed in other places; if the same were done to the tracks I saw today, they could be linked to the nearby section of the Brooklyn-Queens Greenway , which might one day be a continuous greenway that connects Brooklyn and Queens. 

Shifting Reversals

When someone displays a flag upside-down, it's usually a sign of protest.

Other emblems and objects are posted with their downsides up, it can be a signal of distress or surrender--or a message to someone who's "part of the club", so to speak.

So, what does it mean when a bicycle part--a derailleur, specifically--is made with its logo turned on its head?:

This "Vic" derailleur was made in China for Sugino during the mid-1990's.  It was designed for use with six-speed index systems.  That alone could be a reason for the upside-down logo:  By the '90's, only the cheapest department-store bikes came with six cogs in the rear. Perhaps Sugino, which has made many high-quality cranksets over the years (I ride four!) didn't want people to know they were "slumming" it in the low-end market!

(Ironically, the only other Sugino-branded derailleur was a real gem:  a rebadged SunTour Superbe Pro with an even nicer finish than the original, which is saying a lot!)

In contrast, the reversed logo on this next derailleur can be seen as an example of the many lapses in workmanship or quality control to be found in products manufactured in Soviet-era factories:

 

 To be fair, according to Michael Sweatman (author of the Disraeligears website), this Tectoron KS-01 derailleur is well-made:  strong and tight spring and pivots, smooth-spinning pulleys and no steel or plastic anywhere in sight. It's also only about 15 grams (about half an ounce) heavier than a current Campagnolo Record or Shimano Dura-Ace rear derailleur.  Most important, I would expect it to work reasonably well for a derailleur of its time (1978):  After all, its design is based almost entirely on the Campagnolo Nuovo Record derailleur of the same vintage.  Its only real fault is that it seems to have been finished in a way only Stalin (or, perhaps, Hoxha) could love. 

The next, and last, derailleur I'm going to show lacks the nasty charm (Is that an oxymoron)--and almost every other virtue--of the Tectoron:

Triplex, based in the Spanish Basque city of Eibar (also home to the--justly--better-known Zeus), Triplex made derailleurs and other components that, from three or four meters away, looked like Campagnolo's offerings.  Unlike their crosstown rivals--and other manufacturers of Campy knock-offs--Triplex never made anything that even remotely approached the quality or durability of the venerated Italian innovator.   I can say this, having seen a few Triplex changers--as well as those from many other Campagnolo imitators during the '70's and '80's--when I worked in bike shops.

Hmm,,,Would mounting a Triplex with the logo right-side up have improved the performance or durability?

 

Sheltered From The Ruins Of 9/11

As you aware (I'm sure), today marks thirteen years since the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center were destroyed.

There's nothing I can say about the terrible events of that day that hasn't already been said, except for this:  Whatever the truth about it is, it probably won't be known during my lifetime.

That said, I'm writing to point out something that's on display at the 9/11 Memorial Museum, which opened in May.  (The Memorial opened on the ten-year anniversary in 2011.)

The bicycle rack, and bicycles attached to it, were found mostly intact on Vesey Street.  Ironically, Five World Trade Center, a low-rise office building just to the south of the Twin Towers, shielded the bikes and rack from the destruction that befell the Twin Towers.

Only one rider stepped forward to reclaim his bicycle.  To this day, the identities--and fates--of the owners of the other bikes are not known.  Given that the Towers were struck by Flight 11 at 8:46 am, one or more of the owners may well have been a messenger making that day's first delivery--or a restaurant delivery worker bringing some executive his or her coffee and bagel.