Before The Dawn

When I first started this blog, there were mornings when my commute involved riding into the sunrise.  I used to enjoy that--certainly more so than the job I had at the time!  Every once in a while, when I get up early enough (which means, ahem, getting to bed early enough), I will actually voyage into the dawn just for fun.

Today, though, began with me pedaling away from the sunrise

and into the darkness.  

Hell Gate

James Wright used the word "darkness" so much, especially in his early poems, that if he'd copyrighted it he'd've died an extremely wealthy man.  At least there were different kinds of darkness in his work.  I wonder what he would have made of the kind I saw today at Hell Gate as I rode over the RFK Memorial Bridge. 

Atlas Rode

It wasn't just a ride.  It was a mission.

Arielle, my trusty Mercian Audax, took me to the site of some mysterious structures.  How they got there, we weren't told.

How long had they stood?  How long would they have stood

had we not gone there to hold them up?  

Once we knew they'd stay up, we exited, Bill and I, across the bridge of George

into the clouds

 

over hill and dale

and back to the city, shining city.

All in a day's riding!

And, no we weren't doping:

Jordan Almonds.

All of the photos--except the ones with Bill--were taken by Bill.

Bicycles And Sundown: History In An Ohio Town

Some cities are, or were, synonymous with certain industries.  The best-known examples in the US are automobile manufacturing in Detroit and steel-making in Pittsburgh. 

Some smaller cities and towns are linked to a particular company or another.  The Hartford insurance company comes to mind:  It's been a part of the Connecticut state capital that shares its name for over 200 years. 

Believe it or not, even during the "Dark Ages" of US cycling, a town in Ohio was best known for the bicycle company that bore its name.

I am talking about Shelby, a community about 150 kilometers southwest of Cleveland.  From 1925 to 1953, the Shelby Bicycle company fabricated its wares in the heart of town.  

Like most American bikes of that period, most Shelbys  were baloon-tired "cruisers".  Although the majority of  Shelby bikes  bore the names of retailers such as Montgomery-Ward, Spiegel, Firestone and Goodyear, and some were sold by AMF, a number of Shelbys were sold under their own name.  And, while Shelby made "theme" bikes--such as a "Lindy" bike honoring Charles Lindbergh and Donald Duck bikes--some were very stylish, even elegant.  Those bikes are prized by collectors.  

Now some folks in the town have formed a society dedicated to Shelby bicycles.  The Shelby Bicycle Historical Society, recently approved as an IRS 501(3)c tax-exempt organization, is looking for members. You don't have to own a Shelby in order to join; you need only to be interested in the bikes or the town's history. It's not there only to celebrate the company's "Whippet" bike Clarence Wagner rode to a cross-country record in 1927; it also exists to commemorate what was once a significant part of the town's economy and history.

There is another part of the town's history that nobody is trying to commemorate.  It was said to be a "sundown" town; according to some former residents, it even had a sign at its border telling black people they had better be out of town when the sun set.  Even after the sign was taken down, some people ran black folks out of town; others wondered aloud whether an African exchange student should be allowed to swim in the local pool.

(Levittown, on Long Island, is only 55 kilometers from my apartment. It, too, was a "sundown" town.  So was nearby Roosevelt--which, ironically, is now almost entirely nonwhite as a result of "blockbusting".)

While I hope that the good folks of Shelby (and America) will face up to their (and our) racist history, I am happy that they are commemorating something that, while it doesn't make up for that history (what can?), is at least an interesting and sometimes even delightful part of the cycling landscape.