Joe Montgomery R.I.P.

 

What did Joe Montgomery and Steve Jobs have in common?

They founded iconic companies and created products that changed their industries and markets. And each of them took risks that led to losing their companies, though one got his back.

So much has been said and written about Jobs that, really, I could add only the comparison I’ve just made.  I am writing this post on an iPad and use an iPhone. Need I say more about his effect on my, and many other people’s, lives?

On the other hand, you’re not likely to know about Joe unless you’re (ahem!) a cyclist of a certain age. But even if you’re not an avid cyclist, you probably have heard of his company simply from seeing cyclists on their bikes.

Unlike Steve, he didn’t return to the business he started. That makes sense when you realize that Mr. Montgomery saw himself first and foremost as a problem-solver who relished a challenge.

Cannondale’s 2003 bankruptcy was a result of one of those challenges:  the company’s ill-fated foray into motocross. Perhaps his successes in the company’s other ventures, most notably in cycling, imbued him with more confidence than he should’ve had.  Whatever the explanation, another difficulty in his life—with joint pain—led him to create a product and start an enterprise related to it.

When he co-founded Cannondale in 1971, he had no training or experience as an engineer or a designer and while he described himself as an outdoor enthusiast, he didn’t claim to be an “avid” cyclist .

But the product for which Cannondale gained notice—the “Bugger” (I can hear my British readers snickering!)—was borne of his penchant for asking, “How can this be better?” As he recalled, he saw a cyclist struggling up a hill with a heavy backpack.    

The “Bugger” is believed to be, if not the first bicycle trailer, then at least the first commercially available. It’s essentially a backpack on wheels. While it was produced for only a few years, it was influential:  Not only have other bicycle trailers have been made, current cargo bikes and wheeled luggage are arguably its descendants.

During its early years, Cannondale was known mainly for bicycle accessories and other outdoor gear.  My first handlebar bag, which I used on my first multiday trip and European bike tour, may well have been one of Joe’s attempts to solve a problem:  Good front bag supports, and quality bicycle accessories in general, weren’t widely available in the US.  My handlebar bag was constructed something like an internally-framed backpack and mounted with looped aluminum bars on the bottom of a dropped handlebar. Although it bounced a bit on rough roads, I never had any problem hauling my Honeywell Pentax with multiple lenses, a snack or two and something for impromptu encounters. (I was young; I’ll leave that to your imagination!)

And for years, my off-bike luggage was a practical and very distinctive-looking backpack and my off-bike winter outerwear was a parka, both made in the USA by Cannondale. By the time they gave out, I had been using both for nearly half of my life!

Oh, and I wore those amazing leather-and-cotton cycling gloves Cannondale made in Pennsylvania. Like Brooks saddles, they were stiff at first but a few rides broke them in.  To this day, I haven’t worn any other cycling gloves as comfortable, or that lasted nearly as long.

As for the bikes: A year after they were introduced, I bought one of their racing bikes. While I was impressed with its speed and responsiveness, its ride proved harsh even for my young (at the time) bones.  I understand the designs have evolved; perhaps I will try one again some day.

A few years ago, I acquired one of the company’s 1990s mountain bikes. I briefly used it as a commuter/townie. It served the purpose well. But the COVID lockdown came, which eliminated my commute.  I gave that bike to someone who worked at Mount Sinai-Queens and had a two-hour walk to get his job when the subway shut down.

Whatever I thought of the racing bike’s ride, I never doubted the quality of Cannondale’s products.  And while I’m mostly a traditionalist when it comes to bikes (All of my frames are steel!), I think Cannondale spurred, directly or indirectly, positive developments in componentry as well as bikes.

For them, and other reasons (I met him once:  Nice guy!), I note the passing—and offer my condolences to the friends and family—of Joe Montgomery.

Filling The Gap

 About three weeks ago, I left for the last time. I’d been working at the college for just over four years.  I started there after going a year without teaching for the first time in nearly three decades, having lost my old job in the pandemic.

For the first five and a half semesters I worked there, I lived in Astoria.  My commute included crossing the Williamsburg Bridge.  I really enjoyed it—well, most of it anyway.

Until the Brooklyn Bridge opened its dedicated bike lane a couple of years ago, the Williamsburg’s bike lane was easily the best among New York City’s major crossings: It’s wide and has better sight lines than the Manhattan, RFK/Triboro, Queensborough/59th Street or George Washington Bridges.  And I loved that, like Manhattan’s lane, it runs alongside subway tracks. You could tell which passengers were tourists:  They were gazing at the urban panoramas that unfolded before them.  Some waved to me and other cyclists; a few even blew kisses my way. 

As with any major bridge crossing, you climb until you reach the apex.  That means, of course, you descend on the other side.Whee! 

Well, it’s fun until you reach Delancey Street on the Manhattan side.  You’re barreling down at about 40 or 50 MPH (65 to 80 KPH) when you encounter a passage not much wider than you, even if you’re young and skinny. Concrete blocks about your height flank it on either side.

Oh, and right before that strait, the surface drops about half a meter—as if you’re going off a high curb.  At 40-50 MPH (65-80 KPH).

Photo by Lloyd Mitchell

And you have to navigate all of that as people are crossing Delancey, a busy commercial thoroughfare.

Well, say what you will about our new mayor, but Zohran Mamdani, himself a cyclist, did what previous mayors didn’t:  He had the gap filled.  Better yet, he doesn’t plan to stop there:  He’s proposed a rebuild.

Five Years— Or Five Minutes—Ago?i

 Time flies.  How often have you heard—or said—that?

The hours, the years seem to go by more quickly as we reach midlife.  Years ago, I came across a simple explanation: A day, a decade or any other amount of time seems to pass faster because it’s a smaller portion of our lives than it was when we were younger. When you’re four, next Christmas feels like a lifetime away; when you’re forty, last Christmas could have been yesterday—on Christmas Eve.

I’ve heard and read people saying that the pandemic further compressed the time that’s elapsed since. “I think something happened two weeks ago, then I realize it was in 2022,” one commenter related.  That remark particularly resonated with me when I returned from a late afternoon ride. I felt a sense of déjá vu, but it had nothing to do with my familiarity with the route I’d taken to Randall’s Island and back.  Rather, some part of my psyche was replaying an emotion I’d felt at the end of some other episode ride.  After dinner—Taco Tuesday from Webster Diner and Café—I remembered which ride etched the emotion that reflected in my mind’s eye this evening.

From the Astoria apartment where I lived, I pedaled briskly but aimlessly through Queens and Brooklyn  streets.  When I got home, I got the news everyone was hearing: A mob of Donald Trump supporters stormed the Capitol, believing they could overturn the election that denied their guy four more years in the White House—for four years, anyway.

Photo by Ben Stirton

That was five years ago today.  But, to borrow a cliché, it feels like five days ago, if that, even if this country— and the world—and so many of our lives—seem to have five centuries of change. But I have no idea of when any of it, including my life will end. So I am still in the middle, in midlife, with more—of what?—to come, five minutes or five decades from now.