What You Always-- Or Never-- Wanted

I'll admit that I've had more bikes than most people--in fact, more than some communities.  Maybe that's the reason why I don't yearn for bikes I don't have, as I did in my youth.  I have a pretty good idea of what I like and don't like, so I have bikes I love and that feel right for me.  I still try new components and accessories, as my needs in such areas as gearing change.  


Soon, I'll post something about The Bikes of My Life.  I'll recollect about some from my past and talk about my recent and current rides.  Even though I have bikes I love, I still miss a couple of the old ones sometimes.  However, I realize now that those feelings are as much about some of the experiences I had with those bikes as they were about the ride qualities.  And, I admit, that my memories of both the experiences and ride qualities have been distorted, if not erased, by time.


That said, I've had a few bikes I don't really want to see or ride again.  And there are the bikes I'm glad I didn't get and the ones I've never had the urge to try or buy.  Here's one I saw up-close some time ago:

I found this photo of it while surfing the web.  I'm guessing that it's a downhill bike of some sort.  For all I know, it may be a great bike for the purpose.  But then again, I never had any wish to do downhill riding (on what Peter White calls "invalid bikes"), so I wouldn't have any reason to ride or buy such a bike.  


Are there bikes from your past that you wish you had now?  Bikes you wish you could have had?  Bikes you never want to see again? Or, are there any you never had and never wanted?  

Ground Hogs and Safety In Numbers

Is there indeed safety in numbers?   That's what these guys seem to be saying.

Or does it mean that if you're alone, you need a basket?


Actually, the fact that I'm asking questions like that means I've spent too much time (or, at least, more time than I like) off my bike.


At the battle of the Somme, officers were heard to ask, Quand sera-ce fini?:  When will it end?  That's what almost everyone, even people who love the snow and ice are asking.   (Given the way the weather is further straining already-stretched budgets, it might be more pertinent to say, Nous sommes dans le pot de chambre, et nous y serons emmerdes.)


Looking at bicycle-related websites and shopping for things I might need for the upcoming season seems utterly incongruous.  Sometimes it feels as if I'm preparing for a day that might not come.  

Supposedly, there's only six more weeks of winter:  The groundhog didn't see his shadow.  Well, with the weather we've been having, there aren't many shadows of anybody or anything!


What if a group of groundhogs came up together?  Would they have been more or less likely to see their shadows?  Would they be safer?  Or, at least, would they  be less likely to get snowed in?

Solitary In The Snow

For the past couple of weeks, the only people I've seen on bicycles were making deliveries for the local restaurants and diner.   Whenever I see a delivery man (Yes, they're all men.), he likely to be the only cyclist on the road at that moment.


I think now of my days as a messenger.  There were days when I was not only the only cyclist on the streets (at least for a few blocks around), I was sometimes the only person to be seen on the streets.  It didn't matter whether I was on or around Wall Street, or in one of the industrial areas that still existed, though as shadows of their former selves, in Manhattan.  


In those days, I was watching quite a few post-apocalypse movies, most of which I've forgotten.  (Frankly, I watched most of them high or drunk.)  That may have been the reason why the landscape seemed almost lunar, and I felt like some sort of pioneer or homesteader.  


Somehow the snow and ice made me, and the few other people who were outside, seem even more solitary, as if the scene were a photograph negative of a chiaroscuro portrait.

This photo was taken in Kalamazoo, Michigan yesterday.  But it could have been shot in just about any community of any size in the Northeast or Midwest during the past couple of weeks.  It feels as if these storms are making every cyclist seem solitary.


In a sense, we are.  

What Can You Generate On Your Bicycle?

Hub generator?  Bottle generator?  An '80's bottom-bracket mount generator?

None of the above for me.  Nighttime cyclists in this city have the same goal as denizens of the club scene:  being seen. Here, flashing lights are more useful than steady-beam lights because most streets are relatively well-lit.  As far as I know, none of the generator lights made today has a flashing mode.  

But I can think of another kind of generator that might be useful here, at least in the summer.  Here it is, in action:

http://www.videojug.com/webvideo/how-to-make-a-bicycle-ice-cream-maker

Now tell me:  You really want to use your bike to make ice cream.  Admit it!

Once you do that, there's no telling how many appliances you can power with your bicycle.  Hair dryers.  Laptops.  Juicers.  How about a sandwich press?  After all, what's better than a panini for a mid-ride snack?

Forget ethanol or solar, wind or nuclear power.  You just saw the real solution to the world's energy needs!

A Circus Monkey In Red

I've cycled long enough to have seen some truly strange components.  Some were mechanically or functionally quirky; others simply left me wondering what their designers and manufacturers were thinking.


And a few simply look strange.  To wit:

Its brand name is apt:  "Circus Monkey."  Actually, I think it looked rather like a Ferris Wheel designed by someone who jumps through hoops of fire.  


Although it definitely wouldn't look right on any of my bikes, and I probably wouldn't buy it even if I could use it (It's made for mountain bikes with disc brakes, and I don't have one), I actually like it.  Or maybe I like--or, at least, admire-- whoever designed it.  I mean, how could you not?  


To grossly paraphrase Shakespeare, a hub by any other name would probably spin as smoothly.  Still, who wouldn't at least stop and look at one called "Circus Monkey"?  Especially when it looks like the hub in the photo.