It’s 2:00 in the afternoon.
Is the bike’s owner inside the bar?
The girlfriend of an old cycling buddy once told me she could gauge his mental and emotional state by looking at his bikes. “He doesn’t say much,” she explained. “But the bikes tell me everything.”
I wonder what she’d make of this bike.
Shawn Granton, the man behind Urban Adventure League, was running errands in his adopted hometown of Portland. He was riding at a speed normal for those circumstances when the seatpost on his Raleigh Crested Butte broke under him.
What was unusual, though, was the way it failed: in the middle of the tube, near the seat tube collar.
In my four decades-plus as a cyclist, which includes time as a bike mechanic, I have seen and heard of maybe a handful of seatposts that broke. And I can think of only one post besides Shawn’s that broke mid-tube: In my last bike-shop gig, I worked on a warranty claim for a customer who experienced the failure of an early carbon fiber post. I think he rode into a pothole or something, because the jarring threw him forward, away from the jagged edge of the sheared post. Had he not been thrown forward, he could have found out what it’s like to have a broken bottle shoved into his crotch. I don’t wish such a thing on anyone!
The only other mid-tube seatpost failure I can recall happened to a onetime mountain-biking buddy. During a ride in Massachusetts, his post bent about halfway between his saddle and seat collar. Perhaps that doesn’t count as a “failure,” but I don’t think he was anticipating a mid-ride change in his bike’s geometry!
I myself have had two seatpost failures. In the first, about 30 years ago, the seat rail clamp bolt broke on a Laprade-clone post. I was a block from my apartment , on my way home from work. Fortunately,, a driver about 50 feet behind me saw me and swerved away. Only my feet made contact with then pavement.
The second seat post failure was potentially more serious. I wasn’t hurt but I was pissed. On that post—an expensive after-market Syncros—the head, which included the seat clamping mechanism, separated from the tube of the post. I was doing (or trying) some stupid mountain bike trick when the break occurred. I think I did another stupid mountain bike trick to keep myself pedaling , more or less upright, through a turn.
Syncros wouldn’t replace the post, but the shop where I bought it gave me another. Not long after, Syncros had a major recall. At the time, I remember thinking “I should have known better than to buy anything called ‘Syncros’!” After all, it was the name, a few years earlier, of Campagnolo’s early (and short-lived) indexed shifting system. It certainly earned its nickname: “Stinkros.”
Anyway, I am happy that Shawn and his bike are OK—and hope he doesn’t experience another mishap like it.
I thought it was a joke: “Bicycle tour of historic Venice set for Jan.21. Once, many years ago, I visited “La Serenissima” and discovered the semi-hard way that such a thing is not possible.
At least, you can’t do a bike tour of what people think of as “Venice”. The folks who pose next to their wheels for their Instagram selfies on Ponte dei Sospiri didn’t pedal there—not legally, anyway. In fact, they couldn’t have brought their bikes their legally in any fashion. Wheeled vehicles—including cars, trucks, motorcycles, scooters or even skates, as well as bicycles—are not allowed in the city’s historic center. Exceptions are made for wheelchairs and other devices to help the disabled, and cops tend to look the other way for young children on toy bicycles or tricycles.
When I say I learned the “semi-hard” way, I mean that I’d heard and read about the ban but, being young, I thought I could find a way around it. Or, I’d ride until I was stopped. You might say that I was living by the belief that forgiveness is easier to get than permission.
I disembarked from a train at the Santa Lucia railroad station. A friendly attendant carefully brought my bike out of the baggage car. I wheeled it from the station, across the Calatrava Bridge to the Piazzale Roma, one of the entrances to the historic center.
There stood two carbineri. One waved his finger. The other pointed to a railing where other bikes were locked. I nudged a couple of those bikes to clear a space for mine.
While you can’t ride in the city center, you can take some nice spins on the “mainland,” across the lagoon from the city. If you had your heart set on riding, though, it can be a little sad: You’re looking at the places where you can’t ride.
On the other hand, Venice’s city center isn’t a bike-friendly place. The streets are even narrower than those of other European cities and are almost always full of tourists. Also, to get to or from almost anyplace in the city, you have to cross a canal. That means crossing one of the bridges, most of which are arch-shaped and accessible only by stairs. You’d probably spend more time carrying or pushing your bike up or down stairs than riding it!
Such is not the case in another Venice: the one in Florida. Unlike the Queen of the Adriatic, the Shark’s Tooth Capital of the World (!) does not have a network of canals in its center, though many private properties, as in other parts of Florida, have canals—mainly for drainage or irrigation—running through them.
As far as I know, bicycles have never been banned in the town by the Gulf of Mexico. So the announcement is not a joke. The real joke, I believe, is calling Venice, Florida “historic” when its namesake in Italy has stood
for more than a millennium and a half.
