If you are of my or Steve's or Gunnar's generation, you probably remember when bananas were "energy bars." That's what we ate during rides before there were Power Bars, Clif Bars and such.
If you're of our time, you might also remember the movie "Bananas." That came out a couple of years before a Presidential adviser tried to tell people that a dip in economy was a "banana."
But if you're a cyclist of our generation, apart from the association with the original cycling snack, you probably connect the word "banana" with "seat."
From about the mid-1960's to the mid-1970's, banana seats were found on a variety of kids' bikes on which kids did "wheelies". I'm thinking of the Schwinn Sting-Ray and Apple, Orange and Lemon Krates as well as the Raleigh Chopper and other bikes.
Those bikes, and seats, had all but disappeared by the early 1980's. There are several explanations as to why. There were rumors circulating (Remember, this was before the Internet!) that there were lawsuits involving people who got hurt when seat struts broke. That seems plausible enough, given that, as often as not, those seats were carrying two kids at a time, and those seats weren't designed for that.
But the more widely-believed reason for the disappearance of banana seats were the rise in popularity of BMX and, later, mountain biking. Smaller seats and lighter frames are better suited to those kinds of cycling, for a variety of reasons.
Also, the kids who rode those bikes simply got older. Some of them moved on to road or mountain biking, but most put bicycling aside altogether once they got their drivers' licences.
I understand that banana seats are enjoying something of a resurgence in popularity. Today I saw one where I wasn't quite expecting it:
Susan says she "loves" the banana seat on the rear of her otherwise utilitarian Giant hybrid bike. I can only imagine what it's like to pedal from back there. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I'd want to. I also don't think I'd want to pull a "wheelie" on that bike!
Anyway...I've seen bananas at the end of Christopher Street--just not banana seats!
Today, if someone has heard of AMF, he or she is most likely a bowler. AMF remains one of the main manufacturers of pin-setting machines and other equipment used in kegling.
However, not so long ago (I say things like that to make myself feel young!), AMF was actually one of the world's largest bicycle manufacturers. Around the same time, they also manufactured Harley-Davidson motorcycles. But AMF bicycles never inspired the sort of loyalty that HD motorcycles have long enjoyed, and with good reason. Most AMF bikes--which were sold under the "Roadmaster" name--were sold in department stores and were inferior even to other department-store brands like Murray and Columbia.
Roadmaster was a free-standing bike brand before AMF took them over in 1950. A few years later, AMF would sell another line of bikes made for them in England--in Nottingham, no less. You may well have seen one of those bikes, sold under the name "AMF-Hercules". I saw a pretty fair number of them when I was growing up.
Those bikes bore all of the hallmarks of an English three-speed: the same kind of lugged frame made from mild steel, the steel sidepull brakes, handlebars, stem and cottered cranks--and, most important, the same Sturmey-Archer three-speed hub.
In fact, if you stripped away the AMF-Hercules decals and badge, you'd probably think you were looking at a Raleigh, Rudge, Robin Hood or one of any number of other English three-speeds from that time.
However, the AMF-Hercules bikes differed in a few details from their Anglo peers. It seems that AMF marketers thought that the bikes would sell only if they were given some of the same baroque flourishes found on American balloon-tired bikes (like the Schwinn Phantom and Hollywood) of the time, which in turned echoed the fulsomely-fendered and lushly-chromed cars of the time.
I mean, look at that chainguard. Would any bike maker in Albion come up with something like that? Or look at the two-toned seat and matching bag. I don't recall seeing anything like those in the Brooks catalogues!
So...Was it an English bike trying to be American? Or was it an American bike in the body and soul of an English bike?
Someone--I forget who--once told me, "Anything you do in a car, you can do on a bicycle."
My grandmother once told me, "Be careful of what you wish for; be careful of what you believe in."
Never did it occur to me that those two statements could actually converge. Now I realize that it was bound to happen, given that I wished to believe the statement that opened this post. If I do say so myself, that statement been true in my life: I've never owned a car and have no wish to own one.
But I never realized just how true it could be until I came across this:
Who would have thought it possible to take the same obnoxiously loud stereo systems some young men have in their cars and transplant them onto bicycles? The Future Shock Bike Crew, that's who.
The Crew consists of unofficial founder Nicholas Ragbir and his sister Jessica, and of Bhimraj brothers Anil and Travis. They emigrated with their families from Trinidad and Tobago to the Richmond Hill neighborhood of Queens--about seven miles. or a quick run on Tosca, from my apartment.
I've actually seen them on the streets. Unfortunately, I was on my way to or from work, or was weaving through traffic, so I have never had the chance to talk with or photograph them. However, I recently found a page devoted to them on the Worldwide Cycling Atlas.
I wonder how long those young people keep on "pimpin' out" their bikes with stereo equipment and "peddling" their music through the neighborhood. Their exploits involve DJ'ing and engineering as well as cycling. Who knows: They might develop whole new genres of cycling, entertainment or technology. Whatever they do in the future, I hope it's as much fun for them as what they're doing now!
