Seeing Dutch

They like to eat breakfast early!

That was one of the first things Alexis de Tocqueville noticed about Americans.  

In 1831, the 25-year-old lawyer came to this country with his fellow barrister, Gustave de Beaumont, to study prisons in the US.  They returned to their native France after a year and published their report, which seems to have been written mainly by de Beaumont.  

But the lasting legacy of their sojourn came in 1835, when de Tocqueville published Democracy In America.  In it, he offered what, to this day, are some of the most trenchant observations made by a foreigner looking at American society.   He expressed both admiration and criticism of the New World's ideals, customs, institutions (or, in some cases, relative lack thereof) and economy.  

What if he were alive today?  And what if he were a cyclist?  What would he think of the ways in which Americans ride--and of the environment for cycling?  

Those questions came to my mind when I came across this video in which a Dutchman offers his observations of cycling in the USA:

Early Morning On The Island

If you are looking to transcend the place and time in which you live, you can move out and away from them.  Or you can go inside them.

This morning, I did the latter, without even trying.  

Randall's Island sits in the East River, between Manhattan and Queens.  If you know that, but you've never been there, you might expect it to have a skyline like Manhattan's, if on a smaller scale--or, perhaps, dense residential neighborhoods, as you would find in much of Queens.

Instead, you would find fields--some of them open, others designated for baseball and other sports--as well as wetlands, clumps of woods and gardens ringed by a rocky shoreline.  The relatively bucolic landscape is shadowed only by the Hell Gate Viaduct, used by the Metro North commuter rail line and Amtrak, and the overpasses for the RFK Memorial Bridge. (The conjoined Wards Island, once separated by a channel that was filled in about 100 years ago, contains a water treatment plant, mental hospital and state police barracks in addition to ballfields and picnic grounds.)  Even when you look toward the tall buildings of Manhattan, the houses and apartment buildings of Queens and the factories and warehouses in the Bronx, it's easy not to feel as if you are in New York City.

Especially if you're cycling the island early in the morning:

The smokestacks you see in the background are on Rikers Island.  Even they don't look so menacing just after dawn.  (Still, I'm in no hurry to go there!)   Behind the trees to the right, and a few kilometers back, is LaGuardia Airport.  I'd much rather go there.  But riding on Randalls Island this morning was just fine!

Suspending Disbelief

I started mountain biking right around the time suspension front forks were becoming a standard feature of serious off-road machines.  Back then, it seemed that designs were changing every week, and that if you bought a Rock Shox Mag 20, or a Marzocchi or Manitou telescoping fork, a year later you could get something lighter, more durable and with more travel--whether from those brands or one of the new marquees that seemed to appear every month.

Suspension (telescoping) fork advert, September 1992

  

By the time I stopped mountain biking and sold my Bontrager Race Lite, in 2001, new suspension forks bore little resemblance to the ones I saw and rode nearly a decade earlier.  Moreover, bikes with suspension in the rear of the frame had become commonplace, with designs that changed as rapidly as fork designs had been changing.

Even with all of that design evolution, there were some ideas that, apparently, no one ever considered.  Can you imagine how mountain bikes--and mountain biking--would be different if the first suspension system looked something like this?:

To be honest, I'm not sure I'd want to ride such a bike, especially on rocky ground.  I'd guess that even when I was skinnier and more flexible than I am now, I wouldn't have been able to keep my feet on the pedals for very long.


 



 


Then again, maybe the bike isn't made for spinners or sprinters.  It's called a "Flying Bike" because, I believe, it's made for riders to pedal for a few rotations before lifting their feet and "flying".  But I have to wonder whether it would feel like flying if the bike is bouncing through potholes and over rocks.

If you think the "flying bike" is weird, check this out:

 Can you imagine what mountain bikes would be like today if that had become the paradigm for suspension?