A Unique Handle

During the past few years, it seems that more new handlebar shapes and configurations have come to market than I saw during my first three-plus decades as a cyclist.

I must correct myself:  Most of those handlebars are revivals or updates of long-forgotten or disused designs.  Velo Orange, for example, brought back the classic Porteur bar (which I ride on three of my bicycles) and Soma has been making the once- and now-popular Lauterwasser bend.  We have also seen updates of--or new takes on--handlebars that never really went out of fashion, such as the North Road, Major Taylor and "moustache" handlebars.  Hey, I've even seen new productions of the "bull moose" integrated handlebars and stems found on early mountain bikes like the Stumpjumper from around 1984.

As far as I know, though, no one has reproduced this handlebar:




I'd love to know how that handlebar was made and fitted to the bike. When I enlarged the photo as much as I could, it appeared that the "wings" of the handlebars were bolted onto the stem.  I don't know how else the parts could have fit together:  Had the handlebar been of one piece, the "V" bend could not fit into anything resembling the round clamps we see on almost all modern stems.

Now, if you're going to ride handlebars no one else has, you have to fit them with unique grips.  How about these?:




They're made from sterling silver and mother-of-pearl and were standard equipment (!) on the 1920 Columbia Ladies' Safety Bicycle.

Of course, if you're going to ride such grips, ordinary cycling gloves simply won't do.  You'll need these:

Will We Finally Cross That Bridge?

You've been waiting and waiting for it.  Whoever's responsible for it tells you to wait "just a little longer".  A New York minute, a Biblical day, or a geologic era (or error)?   "Just a little more time," you're told:

That's what the Department of Transportation has been telling us ever since the early Jurassic period, when Randall's Island was formed.  They've been promising a bicycle-pedestrian bridge from the Island to the Bronx. A posted sign said the bridge would be done in the Fall of 2013.  Then a digit was changed.  Then another.  Then the season.  What's an ice age or two when you're waiting for something you can really use, right?

To be fair, it is indeed possible to use the pedestrian walkway on the Bronx spur of the RFK-Triborough Bridge.  That path is steeply inclined--which I don't mind, as I can use the climbing practice.  But it also zigs and zags, which makes for very poor sight lines.  I am amazed that there aren't more accidents, especially involving cyclists, skaters or skateboarders coming from the Bronx to the Island, i.e. going down the slalom.

The bridge that's been in the works ever since the Randall's Island Salamander first crawled out of the Bronx Kill would, at least, give clearer sightlines, not to mention make it easier to pedal to and from the Bronx:

What's that I saw today?  People actually working on the bridge?  And could it be that they've actually laid something like a foundation for the path over the rows of pipes and girders that have lain across the creek ever since, oh, about the time Laurasia broke apart.

Could it be that we'll actually have the bridge before the cash bundles from Manhattan collide with empty lots in the Bronx and give rise to condominium and office towers? 

Could it actually open during--dare I say it--our lifetimes?  Or maybe an evolutionary period or two later?

One can only hope.

Queensboro Plaza Dawn

Having an early morning class means, as often as not, being sleep-deprived, both for me and my students.

There are rewards, though:  Students in such classes tend to be a bit more dedicated than those in mid-afternoon classes.  Also, riding to work early can be a very pleasant experience, especially when you're out before the rush-hour traffic and people are walking their dogs--or themselves--rather than rushing to the train or bus.

And then there are the air, light and the relative overall calm of the dawn (or, during the winter, pre-dawn).  Gertrude Stein once said that every great artist she encountered was up before dawn or slept until noon.  I can well understand the former when I see the play of the light of the rising sun on the colors and shapes of a landscape, wherever it may be.

Perhaps "Queensboro Plaza Dawn" doesn't have quite the ring of "Chelsea Morning".  But it offers a vista that, although grittier, is as vivid as the moment Joni Mitchell portrays in her song.  And both are equally transcendent and ephemeral.