It seems that the moment the first bicycle--however you define it--was created, someone was looking for a way to insulate the bike, and rider, from shock. When you look the Draisienne's wooden seat and the iron wheels of subsequent machines, you can understand why someone wanted to make them more comfortable to ride. And if you know anything about the conditions of roads at that time, it's not hard (pun intended) to see the need for a shock absorber to make bicycles (and bicycle-like contraptions) more stable.
If we define "suspension" as anything that insulates ("suspends") the bike or rider from shock, one could argue that pneumatic tires, invented by John Boyd Dunlop in 1888, were the first form of suspension for two-wheelers. In fact, one could even say that when, a decade earlier, John Boultbee Brooks stretched a piece of leather between two rails, he was the first to achieve the goals of every suspension system created since.
So, really, it's not such a surprise to see a suspension bicycle gracing an advertising poster early in the first worldwide Bike Boom:
I could find very little information about Delizy and Poiret. All of it was in French--which, fortunately, I can read.
Apparently, D et P started making bikes around 1890 and weren't in production for very long: I saw an announcement for the dissolution of the company dated 17 July 1892. Their bikes were made and sold at 22,rue Duret in Paris. This factory and showroom stood just off the Avenue de la Grande Armee, which streams into Place Charles de Gaulle Etoile (the location of the Arc de Triomphe) and was, until 15 or so years ago, lined with the boutiques of the major French (and a few foreign) bike makers.
All right. You know that I find stuff like this interesting. So do you: Otherwise, why would you have read this post? But you also know that writing this post was just an excuse to put another cool vintage bike ad on this blog!
Whenever I visit my parents in Florida, I get out and ride at least once.
Some rides--such as those along Route A1A, which rims the Atlantic Ocean--are beautiful and peaceful. The calm is occasionally interrupted by traffic in popular beach towns like Flagler and Ormond Beaches, but for the most part, it's pretty orderly and no driver has done anything hostile or dangerous toward me. Some, I suspect, may be cyclists, but the others just seemed like people who are relaxed and enjoying themselves, or simply courteous.
When I head inland from my parents' house, though, things change. There, I find myself riding through wooded areas and swamps, or along rivers and creeks. Those rides are also pleasant and enjoyable, but riding the one-, two- or even four-lane roads toward the Sunshine State's interior is a different experiences. Although one encounters less traffic--on some roads, you can go for an hour or more without encountering a motor vehicle--the way drivers interact with me is very different.
On such roads, drivers leave less room when passing. To be fair, many of those roads are very narrow. But some drivers, it seems, just don't want to deviate even in the slightest from their path. Or, perhaps, they are not cyclists and are therefore unaccustomed to us. Indeed, I might be the only cyclist they see that day.
I've also had drivers tail me even though they could easily pass me. Then they would bang their horns in frustration and make a sudden swerve around me, affording me only a berth thinner than Benotto handlebar tape.
Then there were those who simply roar down the road as fast as the laws of physics will allow, stirring up whirlwinds of pebbles and dirt and wakes of rustling reeds and mussed-up hair. They, perhaps, are the most disconcerting drivers of all.
I have never cycled in North Carolina, but I imagine that all of the scenarios I've described are pretty common. Cyclists there have long complained about cars and trucks passing close enough to "take the skin off the back of your hand", as more than one cyclist put it. Another cyclist, Randall Bennett, recalls his arm being clipped by the mirror of a passing car.
Apparently, a section of North Carolina traffic code all but mandated such behavior. Until the beginning of this month, it was illegal for a driver in the Tar Heel State to cross over the center line to pass a cyclist. Also, a driver was required to give a berth of only two feet to a cyclist he or she passed.
On the first of this month, changes that were made to House Bill 959 of the State Legislature went into effect. As a result, it's now legal for a driver to cross over the center line to pass a cyclist, as long as there's an assured clear distance ahead and no oncoming traffic. Also, drivers have to give cyclists more room--four feet instead of two--when passing.
From what I've read, it seems that both cyclists and drivers are happy with the change: Cyclists say that it makes conditions safer for them; drivers say the same thing and that it makes them less worried about incurring fines.
Let's hope that, down the road (pun intended), both sides see the results of the new law as a win-win situation.
Make love, not war. But be prepared for both.
I don't remember where I first read or heard that aphorism. Perhaps it was a slogan for a store that sold sex toys and guns. Now, where I would have found such a store, I don't know...
Seriously, though: I have long felt that the bicycle is one of the greatest "weapons for peace", if you will. If nothing else, it could help reduce our dependence on fossil fuels if more people start pedaling instead of driving to their jobs and schools, to shop or just for fun. That, in turn, would lessen the likelihood of a war over finite resources.
Also, I think cycling breaks down at least some of the social barriers that are created, or at least fortified, when people are encased in shields of metal and glass. Although some cyclists play games of one-upsmanship when it comes to equipment or the level of another cyclist's skills (actual or percieved) and physical fitness (again, a or p), I think it's harder to feel superior to, or to be made to feel inferior to, other cyclists when one is on a bike.
That could be the reason why, in my experience, cyclists are generally more accepting of other people's differences than other people. That may be a reason why our politics tend to tack a bit more to the left than average.
Still, we face the reality of war--or, at least confrontation, if not violence--just as anyone else does. Back when crime rates were higher here in NYC, I knew of cyclists who were jumped for their bikes, or who fell victim to thieves who strung fishing line between two poles at just the right height to snag a cyclist. Some perps also scattered debris on streets or created other obstacles to stop or divert cyclists and snatched their steeds from them.
In those days, one had to use particular caution when entering or exiting the Williamsburgh Bridge: neither the Brooklyn neighborhood for which it is named, not the area on the Manhattan side of the bridge, had begun to gentrify. Two old riding buddies, and another acquaintance, lost top-of-the-line bikes when approaching or leaving the span.
Concerns about crime were not, however, new to cyclists in those days. In fact, our peers from a century earlier also had to think about highway robbers, sexual predators and other predators. Such criminals, it seems, were enough of a concern that one Marcus Tindal wrote "Self Protection On A Cycle" for Pearson's, a magazine that, apparently, was a more left-leaning and even more literary version of The Atlantic or Harper's.
In his article, Tindal outlines the various ways in which a cyclist can fall prey to thieves, thugs and perverts--and how to fight back. Here is an illustration from what is, to my mind, the most interesting part:
Tindal shows us that the bicycle itself can be one of the best weapons for self-defense. Interestingly, many of the illustrations are of women on bikes, reflecting the cultural changes that the bicycle engendered (pun intended). And some of the advice is, shall we say, quaint--like the suggestion
More than a century after its publication, someone turned the article's illustrations into an enjoyable series of animated GIFs.
