An Honest-To-God Lincoln

During my childhood, yesterday--12 February--was a national holiday, commemorating the birth of Abraham Lincoln.

Now  "it's not a holiday unless your boss/city/state says it is," as one of my colleagues put it.  We have another holiday--Presidents' Day--on the third Monday of every February to replace Lincoln's and George Washington's (22 February)  Birthdays as shopping days, I mean days off, I mean holidays.

I can understand a holiday for George Washington, Franklin D. Roosevelt and maybe even John F. Kennedy. (I say "maybe" only because JFK was in office so briefly.)  But Millard Fillmore?  Benjamin Harrison? Andrew Johnson?  Richard Nixon?

Some jurisdictions and institutions (such as the college in which I teach) still observe Lincoln's Birthday on the second Monday of every February.  So, in the spirit of the holiday--and because no store, at this moment, is running a sale on anything I actually want or need--I am going to present a Lincoln bicycle.

Actually, it has nothing to do with "Honest Abe".  The "Royal" in the name tells us as much.  Somehow I think he'd roll in his grave if anyone connected him, even if only verbally, with monarchy.

"Royal Lincoln" is named for Lincolnshire, in the English Midlands. Today it survives mainly on tourism, as it has some of the UK's best-preserved Roman and Medieval structures, and on specialized high-tech industries.  But it was one of the areas in which the Industrial Revolution was born and remained a center of British industry at the time the bike--a model called "Stonebow"--was made (1908).

At first glance, it looks more like an old Dutch city bike than anything made in England.  Nothing wrong with that.  But the details distinguish it from other bikes.

For one thing, the paint and lug work are nicely done and have held up remarkably well. Then there is this:

Probably the only saddle that even remotely resembles it is the Brooks B18.   And those pedals:

The person who wrote the entry for the bike on the museum's website has not seen another bike from that marque, and little information is available on it.  Could it have been one of those "local" brands once found all over the UK and Europe that was absorbed by a larger company--or simply ceased production, say, during World War II?

What If He Hadn't Lost That Race?

A couple of days ago, we got a snowstorm that lived up to its advanced billing. Now it's raining, sleeting and snowing at the same time.  The way things are going, the streets will be turned from sledding runs to skating rinks.

The weather's got me to thinking about a story many of you know.   Back in 1927, a certain rider was leading a race in the Dolomites.  In those days, racers usually rode "flip-flop" rear hubs with a different-sized cog on each side.  The fellow was halfway up the notorious Croce d'Aune when he stopped to "flip" his wheel and access his lower gear.  

His fingers frozen, he couldn't loosen the wingnuts holding his wheel in place.  Supposedly, he muttered "Bisogna cambiar qualcossa de drio"--something has to change on the back of the bike--before he finally got the wheel loose.  Meantime, he lost time and his lead.

Now, I am sure this story, like most that are apocryphal, has been embellished or cleaned up, or both.  After all, any invention that changes the world (or the world of cycling, anyway) should have a good story behind it, right?

Well, that tale is widely accepted as the "creation myth", if you will, of the quick release lever.  The racer/inventor in question is, of course, one Tullio Campagnolo.

Not surprisingly, he was at work improving--you guessed it!--the wing nut before, as the folks at Classic Rendezvous so eloquently tell us, "an extremely bad winter" resulted in "Tullio's attention being shifted".

Was a pun intended with the world "shifted"? Signor Campagnolo is also noted, as we all know, for his derailleur designs.  If we can level a criticism against him, it might be that he never managed to make a really good wide-range touring derailleur that did not wholly or partially copy a Japanese design.  

The Gran Turismo is was, in the immortal words of Frank Berto, "Campy's Edsel":  utterly baroque and a functional failure. The first Rally derailleur was, essentially, a Shimano Crane GS built around a Campagnolo Record parallelogram with brass bushings.  (Some believed that Shimano was making it for Campy, but I doubt it.)  It shifted just like a Crane GS, which is to say better than any other European wide-range derailleur of the time, but not quite as well as anything SunTour was making.  

The second generation of Rally was just a Nuovo Record with a long cage.  I never used one, but from all accounts, it didn't shift as well as the first Rally. Moreover, the long cage strained the rest of the derailleur, which meant that the second-generation Rally didn't have the longevity for which Nuovo Records were renowned.  Current Campagnolo wide-range derailleurs are similar in geometry and overall design to those of Shimano.

The "Record Record", on the other hand, elongated the parallelogram in an attempt to avoid what some perceived as the fragility of long-cage derailleurs.  A parallelogram is indeed stronger than a cage, but I never had any long-cage derailleurs that failed as a result of the cage. (My experience includes several SunTour and Shimano models as well as the Huret Duopar and long-cage Jubilee and, for a brief time, a first-generation Rally.)

Here's one more interesting "What if?" component:

Before Campagnolo introduced his side-pull brake in the late 1960's, the Universal Super 51--and its later, shorter-armed iteration, the Super 68--were regarded as the best side-pull brakes.  As they were losing their share of the high-end market, Universal developed their "685", which pulled from both sides.

Supposedly, the force of the brakes squeezed rims the way a pair of vice-grips can crumple a beer can.  Also, the few who used those brakes didn't ride them for very long:  The calipers (the same material, thickness and basic design of the 68s) simply couldn't stand up to the extra torque.  But the final nail in the coffin for those brakes may have been the market:  There were very few sources for the needed "Siamesed" cables.

It's interesting to think of how bikes might be different if today's touring derailleurs and brakes were based on the designs of the "Record Record" and "685", respectively--or if Tullio Campagnolo hadn't such difficulty in loosening a pair of wing nuts during a winter race.

What Would You Eat If....

In this blog, I often talk about foods that I eat--and have eaten--before, during and after rides.

I got to thinking about that while reading something that appeared in my mailbox:  The Worst Foods To Eat In Every State.

Now, even for someone with my refined sensibilities (Yes, I typed that with a straight face!), such a title is "click bait". I am sure that Wil Fulton, the author of that article, or the editors of the "Thrillist" website know as much.

Of course, "worst" can be interpreted in all sorts of ways.  Mr. Fulton seemed to use the term to mean "whatever looks or sounds grossest to someone who's never eaten it before".  And, I have to admit, I probably would have to be stranded in North Dakota before I'd try lutefisk.  On the other hand, Illionois Gravy Bread doesn't sound any different from what I've eaten during, or at the end of, many a meal:  bread used as a sponge for gravy or meat drippings.  Nothing wrong with that.  But people actually have it delivered?

Anyway, I've eaten a few of the items in that article--yes, before, during and after bike rides.  Interestingly, even though I lived in Brooklyn until I was twelve--and have lived in New York City since I was twenty-five--I have eaten the Garbage Plate proper (Is that an oxymoron?) only twice in my life, both times during bike trips upstate.

This is what you eat during a ride in New Jersey

One food I often ate during rides, as well as devant and apres, is Pork Roll.  No one in my family, or I, had even heard of it while we were living in Brooklyn.  But, after we moved to New Jersey, it became a staple of our diets.  Of course, I didn't see it when I was living in France, but even after I moved to New York during the mid-80s, no one in the Big Apple seemed to know about it--or they thought it was something pornographic.

Now stores in this town are selling it.  I think people here were introduced to it a few months ago, when Dunkin' Donuts offered a "limited-time special" sandwich that included it. When I was living in The Garden State, I often had the "Jersey Classic"--a sandwich of pork roll, egg and cheese--at diners, coffee shops and roadside stands during rides.  

What does pork roll taste like?  Some might say it's a better version of Spam, or a milder version of their favorite ham.   It really tastes better than it sounds:  It's pork with a nice combination of sweet and mild spices with salt. 

Is it "healthy"?  Of course not!  (Well, as a "comfort food", perhaps it's good for your mental health.) But I have eaten all manner of pizzas and baked goods during rides, not to mention chili, burgers, tacos, take-out Chinese foods and such delicacies as the jambon-beurre.

By the way:  I have eaten scrapple, the Pennsylvania Dutch-country "mystery meat".  It's actually pretty good--though, I confess, I prefer good ol' Jersey Pork Roll.  Or jambon-beurre.