Hawthorne Flyer Lands By Navy Yard

The other day, I saw this bike parked near the Brooklyn Navy Yard:

It's a Hawthorne Flyer from, I'm guessing, the 1930's or '40's.

   

Along with the head logo, it has some other interesting features:

The chainring was, for me, oddly reminiscent of one you'd find on a Specilaties TA "Cyclotouriste", or other cranksets patterned after it.  


Gotta love this fender:

And this rear reflector is, as far as I can tell, glass, like others from the period:

The seat, with its steel pan and springs, is the exact opposite of a Brooks Professional or B-17.  I'm guessing that the seat had padding, or at least a covering.  It may have been leather, or possibly cloth.  But I can't imagine riding that seat in its current state!

Not everything on the bike is original.  This front wheel looks like it came off a Raleigh three-speed.  And, of course, the chainguard is missing.

Still, it is quite a find.  I hope that it finds a good home!

Always Coney Island

On Saturday, I took my first ride to Coney Island since Superstorm Sandy.  Although some parts of the boardwalk were closed and I saw damaged and destroyed buildings, as well as beach erosion, things weren't as bad as I expected.  Then again, last week, I rode through Rockaway Beach in Queens and Long Beach in Nassau County, two of the most devastated areas.  In those two places, the boardwalks were completely destroyed, houses leveled and streets and the beach strafed as if they'd been hit with millions of rounds of mortar-fire.  At least most of Coney Island was still intact.

Still, I was surprised to see this:

I have memories of Coney Island, and Nathan's, going back half a century.  One of my earliest childhood memories was being there for a Fourth of July celebration with my mother, her parents, my father, two of my uncles and one of my aunts.  I recall it because, according to my  mother, I wondered aloud, "Did you tell all of these people it's my birthday?"

I have been to the boardwalk billed as the world's most famous hundreds of times, at all times of the day and year. Never can I recall seeing the original Nathan's closed--before the other day.

So I wasn't surprised to see all of the other stores and restaurants shuttered.  Granted, many of them would not have been open at this time of year.  But even with the few people who wandered on to the intact areas of the boardwalk, Coney Island seemed desolate in a way I never could have previously imagined.  In fact, I don't think I ever used "Coney Island" and "desolate" in the same sentence until now.

But I actually rather enjoyed it. For one thing, the few residents I saw didn't seem shell-shocked.  But, more to the point, the sky--from which snow flurries floated to the cold but suprisingly serene sea--was, in its gray light, as bracing to look at as the chilly air felt against my skin.

Because Coney Island has offered me such sensations, I will continue to ride there.  I don't know when CI will "come back" or if everything will indeed be open for Memorial Day weekend.  But at least it's still there, and I can still ride to it.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

A friend of mine insists that if I live a good life, I will come back as an Irish girl.

She may have butchered a couple of religious traditions and I may have offended your religious sensibilities, dear reader, for conveying her belief.  But if she's right, I will live a virtuous life in the hope of coming back like this lovely young lady:

From Riding Pretty

A Flashy Racer Becomes A Classy Commuter

When you see a bike like this, you realize why people like me like steel road bikes so much.

I spotted this Pinarello, which appears to be from the '80's or early '90's, parked near the site of the former World Trade Center.

It's not so unusual to see old racing bikes re-purposed as commuters.  It's most commonly done by replacing the dropped bars with flat ones, as the owner of this bike did.  However, I'm seeing more old road bikes with "mustache" bars or the Velo Orange Porteur (which I love).

But it's still fairly unusual to see full fenders on road bikes from the '80's or later, with their  short wheelbases and tight clearances.  Older racing bikes, like the Peugeot PX-10 and Raleigh International, were made to accommodate protection from the elements.     

That's why I was fascinated to see the Velo Orange hammered fenders on this Pinarello.  They're narrower than the ones I have on Helene and Vera, but of the same style.  It's funny how it can make what had been a flashy racing machine into a classy, classic commuter.

The Season: Warmth Or Light?

This year, as in others, the middle of March is an odd time:  It's neither winter nor spring, really.  

From Kevin's Travel Journal

Although today is pretty wintry (temperature barely above freezing, strong gusts), it doesn't seem like a day in, say, late January or early February.  It may have something to do with the fact that Daylight Savings Time began on Sunday, so the sun is not setting until 7pm.  

From Easy As Riding A Bike

At the same time, most of the trees are still bare and much of the ground is wizened (in spite of the rains we've had) and covered with brown grass, weeds and brush.  It's a bit like looking at an old person in an old winter coat, and knowing that both have to survive only a few more days to make it through the season, but also knowing that one or both might not make it.

We could still have another snowstorm or two, or some other kind of storm.  But the days grow longer and soon the trees will begin to bud.  I took did my first metric century (and first Point Lookout ride) of the year on Sunday, a few weeks earlier than I've done them in other years.  Still, I might be relegated to sneaking rides of two hours or so between bouts of bad weather and various obligations.

Of course, about five months ago, we had the inverse of what we're seeing now:  weather and water that were still pretty warm, trees still covered with leaves that were just beginning to change color, but days that were growing shorter.   I was riding into a season's, and a year's, demise, but it was harder to notice or easier to ignore, depending on how I think of it.  In contrast, my ride on Sunday, and the next few I will take, will be like emerging from a cocoon, however slowly, into light and space that could be almost overwhelming until I adjust to them, as I have done every year.

If you had to choose between cold and light or warmth (relative, anyway) and darkness, which would you choose, and why?