What Would Dr. King Think Of Cheap Bikes Or Rich Riders?

Last week, I wrote two posts that might indicate a future direction for this blog.  (Don't worry, I'll still write about my rides, bikes and all things related to them!) One post, about a German study, discussed who is becoming a new cyclist, and why.  The other discussed a mechanics' petition calling for repairable bicycles:  Turns out, most of the new cheap bikes, which are usually the ones bought by people with limited funds, have faultily-designed frames made from shoddy materials and are equipped with proprietary parts that break easily or wear out quickly.  

In brief, those new cyclists on nice new bikes bought in Cannondale, Giant, Specialized or Trek showrooms are mainly people with advanced educations who live in fashionable or gentrifying urban areas.  They might be riding to work or school, or simply for exercise and, as often as not, they are signaling that they care about their health and/or the environment. In other words, they are cycling by choice.

On the other hand, folks buying the cheap bikes, if they're not cycling for the first time in decades and therefore don't want to spend a lot of money,  are buying that big-box special in a big box because they can't afford anything else, including a bus or train pass--if indeed there is a bus or train that will get them from wherever they sleep to wherever they work.

One of the sad ironies--following the logic of the German study--is that we see a kind of social, economic, racial and gender segregation that would have astounded or appalled the man who is being commemorated today in the US:  Martin Luther King Jr.

Now, I don't think King would have denounced cycling or cyclists per se:  He was often seen riding, which he probably saw as a way of bringing him closer to some of the people he was trying to help.  And, because he was turning more of his attention to economic justice issues in his last days, I can somehow see him advising bike share organizations on ways to bridge the cultural divides and media representations that cause some people to believe they can't ride because they're not white and don't look good in lycra--or those who harass cyclists because they see us as entitled jerks (the educated riders of the German study) or the scum of the earth (cf. police who are trained to automatically assume that any cyclist in a low-income neighborhood is a criminal).

So...while I wasn't thinking specifically of King, or any activist in particular, when I was writing the posts I've linked in this post, thinking about King today is causing me to realize that my almost half a century of cycling--and nearly two decades of living as a woman--makes it all but impossible not to connect my experiences and even the things I most love (bicycling, reading, writing, food, travel, animals) to questions of justice.   In other words, the work of Martin Luther King Jr is one of the major byways, if you will, of my journey.

Spinning A Good Ride

When I first got serious about cycling, nearly half a century ago(!), the question was:  Reynolds 531 or Columbus SL?  Sometimes Vitus 971 was included, and within a few years,Tange and Ishiwata (The latter was seriously underrated, in my opinion!) would become part of the discussion.

Later, cyclists argued about whether to ride frames made of aluminum, titanium, carbon fiber--or steel. When serious cyclists said "steel," of course, they didn't mean the gaspipe-grade stuff used on bikes sold in big-box stores:  They were referring to Reynolds, Columbus and Tange (though in new configurations), Dedaccai and other makers.

Today, I am going to settle the question about frame materials, for once and for all.  Or, to be exact, someone more famous (and therefore more of an expert) than me--will give us the answer we've all been waiting for:

By Mike Joos

It's The Stories That Matter

During the past couple of days, it's been colder (in NYC) than it's been in, probably, a few years. Today is definitely a tomato-soup-and-grilled-cheese-sandwich kind of day. Now, to all of you dear readers in Minnesota and North Dakota, this might be a beach day (on Lake Superior?  the Red River?).  But you have to remember that those of us in the Big Apple, everything is bigger, brighter, dirtier, hotter, colder, and generally more intense, and everybody is tougher, stronger and smarter, than in any other place in the universe.

Of couse, I jested (Is that a real word?), but only somewhat, with my previous sentence.  But like any true New Yorker, that's what I tell myself.  And the tourist bureau wants you to believe stuff like that so you'll tell yourself that you'll never, ever come here--until you do.  And you meet someone like yours truly.  And someone else like me. (Yes, believe it or not, there such people.)  And another.  And another.  Then you go home and tell your friends that everything in New York is bigger, brighter, dirtier, louder, more intense--and more expensive--but, you know, those New Yorkers are rude and gruff but they have hearts of gold.

My late uncle Joe was that kind of person.  He was born and lived in Brooklyn until he was about 60, when he and my aunt moved upstate. He never lost his straight-out-of-Red Hook  (I bawt a boddle uv alluv earl in da staw on toity-toid and toid*) accent--or his sense of humor and generous spirit.  

I am thinking of him now because of a feature article in a local newspaper of a place I've never seen. Uncle Joe was an avid motorcyclist until he couldn't ride anymore.  I don't recall him riding a bicycle but he talked fondly of the one he rode as an adolescent in the 1950s:  a Schwinn Phantom, in black.  He said the bike always "felt right:"  in spite of its weight, "it moved."  And somehow, he said, the gearing felt just right:  "I felt I could pedal into anything!"

Now, perhaps that last exclamation had more to do with his youthful energy than the bike, or anything else--though, I must say, if his bike was anything like the two black Phantoms I've seen, he probably felt like a real badass when he rode it.  I know, I probably would have, too.

Howard F. Gordon of Lower Burrell, Pennsylvania has one of those bikes.  And, I would guess, another, perhaps in another color.  And other bikes from that period, and earlier--over 100 of them!

From what I read in the article and saw in the accompanying photos, all or most of those bikes are of the balloon-tired "cruiser" variety made by Schwinn, Columbia and many other American companies until the 1960s.  He calls his 1951 Monark "the Cadillac of bikes.

Even though he admits he has "too many" bikes, he's always on the lookout for new treasures, at garage and estate sales.  "There are so many bicycles in garages and attics that are worth money," he explains. Whenever he buys a bike, he disassembles it and cleans every part before reassembling and restoring the bike to something like its original condition.

One of his more interesting observations regards the condition of the bikes he finds.  Generally, he says, girls' bikes are in better condition because they were better cared-for. Boys, he observed, usually rode their bikes into the ground.

That observation is part of what keeps him interested in vintage bikes:  the stories, known or imagined, by them.  "Every one of those bikes had a rider who can tell you something about the adventures they took on it," he explains.  "A bike is a kid's first feeling of freedom."  Sometimes kids pedaled their bikes to places their parents never knew they went. (Can you see me and Uncle Joe winking to each other?)  

In case you were wondering, Gordon rides.  "My wife and I go on riding dates," he relates.  "We stop for ice cream.  We enjoy the nice weather.  It's great exercise."

That sounds like a story behind at least one of his bikes! 

*--Translation: I bought a bottle of olive oil in the store on Thirty-third and Third.

Photos by Louis B. Ruediger, for the Tribune-Review.