The Family After The Storm?

After The Fall That Would't end (Did I want it to?), winter finally came right about the time I took off for Florida.  Since I came back nearly two weeks ago, I haven't done much riding.  In fact, today I got on my bike for the first time since last weekend, when a blizzard dumped more than two feet (65 cm) of snow on us.

The day after the storm, a travel ban was in place, which meant that all non-emergency vehicles were banned from the city's streets.  Now, nobody defined exactly what "emergency" means, so there were a handful of cars slipping and sliding along the roads.  The only cyclists I saw were making deliveries for local restaurants and diners.

I could have ridden a couple of days ago, but I was busy preparing for a new job I started on Friday.  More about that later.  Also, I was working on a bike-related and a writing project.

But I got out for two and a half hours this afternoon.  The weather was mild for this time of year:  10C (50F) late this afternoon.  Most of the snow is gone, but there are some mounds in out-of-the-way spots, like the parking lot of the Long Island Rail Road station in Hunters Point:

Hmm...Was she feeding her young?  Or instructing him?

Has the one on the left turned his back on her? Is he an absentee father, a shadow?

After I took the photos (on my cell camera), I resumed riding.  After all, I don't want to be involved in a family feud!

Horses Or Bikes, She Is A Real Freedom Rider

As you’ve no doubt heard by now, last month marked forty years since the release of Patti Smith’s album Horses. 

I was a senior in high school then.  It semed that my classmates fell into one of three categories:  the ones who loved it and didn’t want it to end, the ones who were looking forward to college or whatever else they were going to do after graduation, and those who just couldn’t wait to get out.

Those of us in the third category were, in one way or another, the class “geeks”.  Most of us were bookish; nearly all of us had some interest or talent that wasn’t fashionable in that high school where the unofficial motto seemed to be, “If you can’t f*ck it, smoke it or drive it and it ain’t Led Zep’, it ain’t worth it.”  More than a few of us read and/or wrote poetry or songs we would perform only for very close friends (who, naturally, were as introverted as we were); we loved poets like Patti who, we felt, told the truth—at least as we understood it at the time.

I had been writing stories, articles for the school newspaper and stuff I can’t categorize—most of which I lost or destroyed along the way from then to now.  Around that time, I started writing what some might call “free verse” poetry, or simply chopped-up sentences.  Whether or not it was “any good” (Let’s face it, how much of anything that we do at that age is?) is, I realize now, not the point, any more than whether or not I had the capability of becoming a world-class racer did or didn’t make the amount of cycling I was doing “worth it”.  Yes, I wrote and rode—as I do now—because I enjoyed those activities.  But more important, I could not envision life without them.

Actually, that’s not quite right.  I did those things, not only for pleasure, but also for survival.  And, in those days, the work of a poet like Patti Smith or Gregory Corso or Arthur Rimbaud was sustenance for “the journey”, whatever that might be.

I think what I really loved and admired about Patti Smith, though, was something I couldn’t articulate at the time, or for a long time afterward.  Now I’ll express it as best I can:  She did something interesting and unique, whatever its flaws (which I only vaguely understood at the time) and did it on her own terms.  At a time when I still did not have the terms or tools to articulate, let alone embody, the “differentness” I saw in myself—which others, especially the adults in my life, misunderstood as “rebelliousness”—Patti Smith gave us an image of how someone can become someone only he or she can become. 

When Horses came out, she was often described as “androgynous” because of the way she was dressed, and the way she carried herself, in the photo on the album’s cover.  The truth, I realized even then, was that she was actually showing that it was possible to be a woman in a way that didn’t fit into the boxes constructed by the governing institutions and individuals of our society.

She upset those authority figures in much the same way as the women who abandoned their corsets and hoopskirts for shorter skirts or “bloomers” so they could ride bicycles in the 1890’s. Most of those women weren’t consciously rebelling; they simply to wanted to live their lives as they saw fit.    

It might take a long time but, ultimately, independent spirits who realize their visions change the world and inspire us while those who try to suppress such spirits or the change they engender are forgotten or even vilified.  Most people, at least in the industrialized countries, think nothing of women wearing pants or skirts that don’t constrict their movement, and of working in what were once considered in “men’s” jobs.

Or of writing a line like, “Jesus died for somebody's sins, but not mine."

Knowing what I’ve just said, are you surprised to see this image of Patti Smith?:

They Were Sooo Continental

You don't wear Continental clothes or a Stetson hat!

That line comes from Otis Redding's Tramp.  The song is an argument between a woman and Otis.  She accuses him of being a tramp because, as she says, he's "straight out of the Georgia woods". 

 

 

We in the United States of America are as continental--in the literal sense of that word--as anyone in the world.  After all, we occupy a large part of the North American continent.  However, when we say "Continental", we use it in the way the British mean it:  of mainland Europe, particularly France, Italy or Germany.

Even though we Yanks like to think we tossed off the yoke of the British crown, it seems that we still emulate them in every way we can.  We speak their language. We may have a different accent, but so often, we mean it the way they do--sometimes even more so.

And so it is with the adjective "continental".  It not only refers to the geographical location; it also has the connotation of "sophisticated", "refined" or "elegant".  Or it can be just a politically correct way of saying "exotic" or a polite way of saying "sexy".  And here, as in Blighty, it is also a way of saying "French" without saying it.  (Hmm...What if "Freedom Fries" were called "Continental Chips"?)

That latter connotation was commonly employed in British cycle advertising just after World War II. Before the big fight, the worlds of British cycling and the British cycling industry were very insular.  Brits thought, as Americans would in the years just after the war, that if it was made in their country, it must be better. 

In some cases, their biases had at least some basis in truth.  Pre-war Schwinn Paramounts were built from Accles and Pollock tubing; all over the world, some of the finest frames have been, and still are, constructed from Reynolds tubesets.  Six-day racers favored BSA components, particularly their cranks, pedals and hubs; town bicycles all over the world were equipped with Sturmey Archer hubs and, to this day, all manner of bikes in every place imaginable sport Brooks saddles.

However, for all the vibrancy of the club-cycling scene, bicycling in Britain was still, in the main, utilitarian.  On the other hand, France, Italy and other countries on "The Continent" had lively cultures of racing, and many people, at least superficially, emulated the riders of the peloton.    It is said that British service members who fought on "The Continent" brought back a taste for Contiental bikes and parts--as well as other things.

British Cyclo Gears with 1/8" chain

British cyclists started to demand bikes with derailleurs.  However, until 1954, Raleigh did not supply any bikes with them.  And, in 1955 British Cyclo were still making most of their cogs for 1/8" chains, even though increasing demand for three- and four-speed freewheels meant that more and more riders wanted and needed cogs for 3/32" chains.  Other bike and parts manufacturers in Britain were slow to respond to those changes.  In fact, some simply continued to offer the same products the were making before the war, as if it were somehow unpatriotic to pattern new products after, let alone offer, the freewheels, derailleurs and such that were made mainly in France.

Once they started to make or import (as Ron Kitching did) those items, they were still loath to make Gallic references.  So, those items--particularly, for some reason, large-flange hubs--were called "Continental" parts.  In an article he wrote on the Classic Lightweights UK site, Steve Griffiths said this habit may have been inspired by the Prior hubs made in France during the 1930s, which had some of the largest flanges (and most profuse drilling) ever seen. 

Prior Hubs. I love them.  Did someone use Spirograph to design them?

The flanges on that hub were riveted to smaller flanges which, as on most hubs at the time, were attached to a steel shaft.  So, the British Hub Company did the same with their Airlite hubs.   Collectors pay more for Priors and Airlite Continentals than most people pay for bikes.  They look interesting and, from what I've read, they spin smoothly. However, they both share a problem:  Prolonged use can loosen the rivets.

They're Continental, all right.  So is Swiss cheese.