Product Review: MKS Lambda/Grip King Pedals

Since January, I have been commuting on MKS Lambda pedals.  They are, of course, the pedals that Rivendell sells as its "Grip King" model.


Well, these pedals certainly live up to the moniker Rivendell gave them.  Nearly every comment I've read or heard mentioned their grippiness.  And, while nearly all of the comments were positive, a couple of cycling acquaintances warned me that they could become slippery in wet weather.  Apparently, the "cups" on the pedal collected water and made the pedal slick.


I am happy to report that I didn't experience anything of the sort--even when I got caught in a torrential downpour moments after pedaling away from the Kingsborough campus. It was the heaviest rain in which I've ridden in some time, so I feel confident that a cyclist's feet remain on the Grip King/Lambda pedal even in the worst of conditions. 


My confidence in the grip of these pedals is enhanced by the fact that I have ridden on them in Keen sandals, slingbacks with three-inch heels, LL Bean rain boots, cross-trainers and a few other kinds of shoes. In fact, I feel even more confident about the grip of these pedals than I do about the grip of rubber-block variety found on three-speeds.




About rubber-block pedals:  MKS makes what is probably the only high-quality, rebuildable version of such pedals available today.  They are also one of the last makers of good-quality traditional toe-clippable road pedals.  But, in my experience, MKS doesn't seem to regard people who want such pedals as a "captive" audience.  The company--which still makes all of its pedals in Japan--builds sturdy, well-finished pedals that are reasonably priced and lighter than some cyclists might expect. 


Lambda/Grip King shares the qualities I've just mentioned.  Mine have survived, with hardly a scratch, a couple of close encounters with curbs and a fall I took.  And, even though they are the widest pedals I've ridden in a long time, I am surprised at the amount of cornering clearance they offer.  On the other hand, they don't offer the kind of ground clearance you can get from the company's GR-9 platform pedal, or its White Industries or Lyotard counterparts.  


The Grip King/Lambda pedals also share another characteristic of MKS pedals--at least the loose-bearing models, at any rate.  Chances are, when you turn the axle on your brand-new set, it will feel a bit tight.  You might even feel a slight amount of roughness.  If you're a perfectionist, you can repack the grease or even change the bearings.  But I found that after a few rides, the bearings started to feel smoother.  Now, while not as smooth as sealed-bearing pedals, they are probably as smooth as the best ball-bearing pedals I've ridden.  


As for the bearings:  They are not cartridge bearings, which are what most people think of when they hear "sealed bearings".  However, the steel balls in the Lambda/Grip Kings seem well-protected against the elements.  So, even though I've ridden through some bad weather, and anticipate riding through some more, I anticipate riding these pedals for quite a while before I'll need to overhaul them.


I will admit that, when I start pumping or spinning at the end of a stressful day, I do miss having foot retention on these pedals.  Even though these pedals will hold your feet, you can't "pull" on the upstroke as you can with toe clips and straps or "clip-in" (what the Brits sometimes call "snap-in") pedals.  I tried installing velcro grip straps but they were too wide, and spaced too close together, to fit on the Lambda/Grip Kings.  I ruined the straps when I tried trimming them to  fit.  Maybe I'll try another pair.

Like many of you, I thought the pedals were pretty strange-looking when I first saw them.  However, when you're riding, you don't see your pedals much. Also, because they have a flat profile, they don't stand out as much on many bikes as you might expect.  They blended in surprisingly well on Vera, the bike on which I've been commuting.  That may have something to do with the Velo Orange "hammered" fenders I installed on the bike.


On the whole, I highly recommend the MKS Lambda/Grip King pedals for commuting, errands and shopping, or any other kind of cycling for which you wear ordinary shoes and don't care about speed.  The MSRP seems to be around $55; however, you can get them for around $40, or even less, from Tree Fort Bikes (which have become one of my favorite online bike retailers) and a few other places.

The Only Attitude Is In The Name Of The Bike

I hadn't ridden along that stretch of Metropolitan Avenue, or in that neighborhood, in at least five years.  That, in spite of the fact that it's only about twenty minutes' worth of pedaling, if that, from where I live.   


The area has the feel of an old-style New York blue-collar neighborhood.  That in itself is not a reason for me not to ride there; in fact, my old Brooklyn neighborhood was very similar, so I feel somewhat comfortable in it.  Plus, that stretch has one of the better pizzerias and a couple of really good Italian bakeries, as well as a few pleasant family-owned stores of one kind and another.


One of those stores is Twin Bicycles. Eric, who is now one of the part-owners, looks like one of the kids who'd come into the shop to buy BMX bikes or accessories, or simply to hang out.  He's actually very friendly and articulate, and wanted to know as much as he could about Arielle, the bike I rode today.  Back in the day, the shop sold bicycles like the ones I saw in the window:

They are Klein mountain bikes, made in the USA before Trek took over the company.  The one in neon sunset colors is the "Attitude" model.  It, and the other bike belong to a longtime customer of the shop.  In fact, that customer bought the bikes new from the shop.  Although the Attitude's paint job could have come from the period, it was re-painted when the bike was re-fitted with the Rock Shox front fork.  


Here is another shot of them:

With those paint jobs, I felt as if something like Depeche Mode's "Enjoy The Silence" should have been playing in the background.  I have always liked that song, but thought it was a little odd because the lyrics include these lines: "Words are very unnecessary/They can only do harm."  That may be true, at least in some instances.  But how would the song have been written without words?


But I digress.   Those of you who have '80's and '90's mountain or BMX bikes might want to get in touch with Eric, for he has some new-old-stock parts from that era.  Among them are a dozen sets of SunTour XC roller-cam brakes that are still in their original boxes!  


Anyway, our conversation reminded me of how long it had been since I'd visited the shop, or ridden that stretch of Metropolitan Avenue.  I asked about his father, who owned the store.  "Oh, he died five years ago."  That surprised me, for I thought he couldn't have been more than about five years older than I am.   Complications from diabetes claimed him only two years after his father (Eric's grandfather) died the same way.


Right now, all of the bikes in the shop (the ones I saw, anyway) were repairs.  "Lots of people want to fix up their old bikes," he said, confirming what I've seen and other shop owners and employees have told me.  Still, he plans to sell new bikes again:  He said he's just made arrangements with Trek.  Given the neighborhood and Twin's history as a family-oriented shop, it makes sense.  


I might take another ride over there soon, as I saw at least one item I might use.  Plus, Eric is a pleasant fellow.

Two Guys And Two Bikes By The River At The Gate Of Hell

Today's ride took me through, among other places, Randall's Island.

There I saw two guys and two bikes by the East River:

Behind them was the Gate of Hell--or, more precisely, the Hell Gate Bridge:

Underneath Hell Gate was a "Native Plant Garden."  Somehow it seemed a bit of an oxymoron.  Still, it was lovely.

I especially liked this particular flower:

After the reverie of seeing it, I pedaled across the newly-reopened 106th Street Bridge onto a newly-reopened (but not entirely repaired) path/greenway along the river in Manhattan--East Harlem, to be exact.  After climbing the shallow but steady climb through Harlem, Hamilton Heights and Washington Heights, I crossed the George Washington Bridge to the New Jersey Palisades.  


After more riding through New Jersey and Staten Island, I thought I'd gotten away from the Gate of Hell.  Well, maybe I got away from the fire of it--but I couldn't escape the mist.

And then, finally, I got some advice upon re-entering Manhattan.

Back to the guys and their bike--and Tosca, the bike that took me through these adventures:

Milestones

From  Markerica

This is, for me, an interesting time--at least in terms of this blog.

Within the past two weeks, Midlife Cycling has reached three milestones:  500 posts, 70,000 views and two years--in that order.

There may be changes coming soon.  But don't worry:  This blog is even more of a pleasure for me than it was the day I started it. I hope you feel the same way.  In any event, I anticipate writing and riding through some more milestones.


Thank you for reading, and please share this blog with your friends.

Getting Caught Without My Raingear

Last week, I wrote a post in which I asked you, dear readers, how you decide whether or not to ride in the rain--or when the weather looks chancy.  I also asked whether you bring rain gear if there's a chance of rain.


Well, on my way home last night I felt like an utter fool.  You see, I had to Kingsborough Community College for a workshop and because I agreed to proctor an exam.


Both appointments were in the morning.  So, I anticipated leaving some time in the afternoon.  The day started off bright, sunny and a little bit cool.  The air warmed up, but the skies didn't become any less clear, during the ride--parts of which are quite pleasant.  My destination is in a part of Brooklyn called Manhattan Beach, which looks more like a town on coastal Long Island or Connecticut.  


Well, for various reasons, I ended up staying later than I'd planned.  And, by the time I was ready to leave--around 7:30--rain had begun to fall.  No, forget that.  It was as if the sea, which abuts the campus, was pouring itself over the buildings, paths and gardens.


Of course, I didn't have any rain gear with me.


I thought I could wait it out. After about half an hour, the rain let up.  Not even two minutes after I pedaled off the campus, I rode by the eponymous beach.  You can guess what happened next:  Another deluge, even harder than the one I waited out, came raining down.  The only problem was that there was no shelter.  There were no houses on that stretch, no lean-tos or even trees.  Worse, lightning started to flash all around me.


Within seconds, it seemed, my skirt, blouse and sweater were soaked.  My sandals were like completely full sponges under my feet.


I rode another couple of minutes, to a mini-plaza with a pizzeria, a coffee house and a couple of small stores.  I was about to stop there--the thought of a slice of hot pizza (at a place where I'd had good pizza on other rides)appealed to me.  But the idea of sitting someplace, soaked to my skin, did not.  Then I thought about taking the train, about half a mile away. When I got to the station, though, I realized that the train's air-conditioning might be running.  Sitting in it, in my besoaked condition, definitely would not have been a good idea.

From The Guardian (UK) Bike Blog

So, even though I knew it would take me about an hour and fifteen minutes to get home, I continued to ride.  Somewhere around Brooklyn College, in the middle of Brooklyn, the rain started to let up.  It had all but stopped by the time I crossed the Pulaski Bridge from Greenpoint into Queens.  From there, it's only a few minutes to my apartment.  I stopped at a greengrocer:  the boxes of strawberries and the piles of cherries (both red Bings and yellowish Queen Annes, which taste like a cross between a sweet cherry and a nectarine) in their bins were even more appealing than the pizza had been an hour earlier.  So, after filling my Carradice Nelson Longflap with the luscious fruits, I pedaled home.


The most interesting thing--to me, anyway--was that, except for my sandals, I was dry.  And so was everything in that bag.


That fruit sure was good.  So was the concoction I threw together:  chicken, corn kernels, scallions, chili peppers, Italian green peppers, red bell peppers and mushrooms, all stir fried with a little bit of curry powder and soy sauce, and tossed over some Japanese buckwheat noodles.  Max and Marley were all over me:  They liked the chicken, too. (All right, I cooked some without the vegetables and sauce and noodles for them.)

A Derailleur I Don't Miss

As I've mentioned in earlier posts, I don't do "retro" for the sake of being retro.  I like the ride of high-quality steel frames, and like the look of lugs.  I also like leather saddles and canvas bags, for looks as well as comfort (in the case of saddles) and durability (the bags).  Also, I appreciate the craft that goes into many of those items.

There are some "old-school" parts I really like, too.  As an example, I probably will ride cranks with square-taper bottom bracket axles for as long as they're available. (I went through eight ISIS bottom brackets in the three years I rode a crankset made for them!)   And, I like Lyotard-style platform pedals with toe clips and straps because they don't require the use of special shoes or cleats--and, frankly, they're better-made than most clipless pedals.  (For a time, I was replacing my clipless pedals every year, even if I didn't crash them.)  And, although I've ridden some of the exotic pre-made wheelsets, and owned a couple of pairs, I prefer handbuilt wheels with traditional (not straight-pull) spokes.

On the other hand, I don't understand the fascination with some "old-school" stuff, save for collectors and people who want to do "period" restorations.  

Here is an example of what I mean.  The other day, this derailleur ensemble sold for 170 dollars on eBay.  Granted, it is in New Old Stock (NOS) condition, meaning it had been sitting in some box or drawer for the past forty years.  

While these parts aren't as common as they once were, they haven't exactly disappeared from the planet, either.  The pieces of the ensemble were made by Huret. The shifters and front derailleurs were decent: not as good as Campagnolo's best or almost anything SunTour ever made, but competent enough, especially in their time.  However, there was no excuse for the rear derailleur, even when it came out.

The Huret Luxe Super Touring rear derailleur was scary.  When you rode it, I mean.  It shifted with all of the predictability of Lady Gaga's sartorial choices.  To be fair, the same could be said for most wide-range touring derailleurs of that time (circa 1972) that weren't made by SunTour.  The Campagnolo Gran Turismo didn't shift much better than the Huret.  But at least the Campy GT shared a trait of other Campagnolo derailleurs at that time.  Frank Berto best described that characteristic when he said, of the Nuovo Record, that it would shift poorly forever.  

From VeloBase 

The Luxe's body consisted of spindly stamped steel pieces riveted together.  Even on the "racing" version of the Luxe, which had a shorter pulley cage, the pieces would work themselves apart, destroying even the pretense of shifting ease or precision.  The long-caged version would deteriorate even more quickly because the extra length of cage and chain created even more stress on the fragile body.

For a couple of years, some European bikes (such as the Raleigh Super Course and  Motobecane Mirage) were equipped with this derailleur.  Such bikes were usually "sport" models with a wider range of gears than were typically found on such model.  The Luxe Super Touring may have been the first European derailleur made to shift onto a 32 tooth rear cog.  (The largest most other derailleurs could handle was a 28; racers in those days typically had largest gears of 21 to 24.)  It came out just as SunTour derailleurs were first becoming available outside of Japan; within a couple of years, SunTours would adorn the Super Course, Mirage and many other mid-level European and American bikes.

When it was new, the Luxe ST sold for around twenty dollars; the ensemble in the photo went for about forty.  Within a couple of years of its introduction, SunTour and Shimano derailleurs that shifted much better, and lasted longer, could be had for half as much, at least in the US. (Japanese components were significantly more expensive in Europe.)  Still, it appears that Huret made the Luxe derailleurs until the early 1980's, when Sachs bought Huret and a few other French component makers.

As I said, I can understand someone buying a Luxe or Gran Turismo for a collection or a "period" restoration.  But I would not install them on any bike I intended to ride anywhere besides an "oldies" show.

A Childhood Dream In Hipster Hook

Once again, my travels took me through Hipster Hook.  And, as in previous trips through the area, I saw some interesting bikes.

A few days ago, I saw a vintage Bob Jackson and Masi parked next to each other near Manhattan Avenue in Greenpoint.  Today, just a couple of blocks away, I saw another bike that made me emotional for a different reason.

While I was happy to see the Bob Jackson and Masi just because they're such nice bikes, the one I saw today stirred up a memory.  Actually, a whole bunch of memories.

Mind you, it's not a bike I ever had.  I didn't even have one that was remotely like it--not any that I remember, anyway. Rather, it's a bike I might have had if my childhood had been different.

When I say "different," I'm not talking about having been richer (or poorer) or grown up in some other neighborhood, city, state or country.  I'm talking, of course, about the bike I might have had if I'd grown up as a girl named Justine rather than a boy named Nick.


As best as I can tell, this Schwinn Hollywood is from 1967.  At least, that is when Schwinn offered this model (and a few others) in this color.

Of course I love the curves on the bike.  But, as you can probably tell, I love the color even more.  Yes, even as a 12-year-old boy I loved that color--and the shape of the bike.  Of course, in the time and place where I grew up, I wasn't going to admit that.  

I was tempted to wait for its owner and offer to buy it.  Somehow I think she (or he?) wouldn't have sold it.  Even if its owner had no idea of how rare (and possibly valuable) that bike could be, I think she or he is taken with its charm--not to mention its color!

Besides, I'd need more space (not to mention time and money) for it.  I don't think I'd want to leave it outside at night, even in my relatively safe neighborhood.  A childhood dream deserves better.

Life On A Rainy Day

Today has been unusually cool for this time of year.  It's also rained on and off throughout the day.  I managed to ride for about half an hour.

After a dinner of shrimp and corn bisque, tilapia coated with cornmeal, freshly-ground black pepper and thyme and sauteed in olive oil with capers and lemon, and a vegetable medley, I did some work.  But Marley (r) and Max had their own way of coping.  Oh, by the way, they dined on poached tilapia.

Rain Gear Or Not?

It's been raining on and off today.  Meteorologists forecast more of the same for the next three days or so.  


My grandmother used to joke about "walking between the raindrops."  Has anyone ever cycled between raindrops?  I've ridden between bouts of rain.  In fact, that's what I did today.  


Whenever I've gone on a multi-day ride, I've brought rain gear with me.  Sometimes I'll bring it on a day ride.  But today I didn't bring any with me.  


Do you usually bring rain gear if you think there's a chance of getting wet?  Do you take your chances?  Or do you not ride in the rain at all?


Whether or not you ride in the rain, you've got to admire this cyclist's sense of style:

From Cyclingtops.com

Hipster Hook Bikes

How do you know you're in Hipster Hook?


Well, first of all, I should tell you where and what Hipster Hook are.


Roughly, HH rims the East River in Brooklyn and Queens from the Williamsburgh Bridge to the Queensborough (a.k.a. 59th Street) Bridge.  From the river, it stretches a few blocks inland, to about Driggs Avenue in Brooklyn and 11th Street in Queens.  Hipster Hook includes parts of the Brooklyn neighborhoods of Williamsburgh and Greenpoint, and the Queens Community of Long Island City.


All right. You don't always have your map or GPS handy.  So, how else can you tell you're in the Hook?


Well, just take a look at the bikes parked locked to the sign posts, parking meters or other immobile objects:

I mean, where else are you going to find a '70's Bob Jackson, with a full set of Campagnolo Nuovo Record Components, converted to flat-bar use and locked up next to two other bikes?

If you've been following this blog, you have probably realized that I favor purple and deep green (especially British Racing Green), cobalt blue or burgundy bikes.  But I also have a soft spot for orange bikes of that time.  (I include Marianela, the Schwinn Le Tour I used to ride.)  Somehow, the orange bikes made since then just don't have the same kind of character:  Instead of glowing, they shout.

Anyway, I think that bike also has the only thing that, to me, could have made it even prettier:  a somewhat-aged Brooks B-17 saddle in honey.


I wish I could have gotten a full solo shot of the bike.  Oh well.  At least one of the bikes locked next to it was a Masi from the same era.  Today, bikes bearing the Masi name are being made in Taiwan and seem to be, at best, parodies of the real thing.

And how else do you know you're in Hipster Hook?  Well, the bike locked next to the Bob Jackson and Masi was a current KHS bike.  Not bad, really:  I once had a KHS myself.  But you simply can't compare it to those other two bikes!

Sneaking Away, Into The Wind

Today I was asked to go to a function where I really didn't have to be.  I never exactly said "no," but I didn't commit to it, either.  So, if anyone notices I wasn't there (There's a good chance nobody will!), I can say that "something came up."


Which it did.  That "something", of course, is a ride.   When I left my apartment just after noon with Arielle, scarcely a cloud besmudged the blue, sunny sky.  A strong breeze bent tree limbs and flickered leaves.  But the weather was just warm enough that the breeze invigorated me.


Given that it was such a lovely day, I figured I could ride to Point Lookout and be home around the time of the end-of-day traffic filled the roads.  It was a good plan, but not necessarily for the reasons I planned.


We all know that when you pedal into a breeze, it turns into a wind.  And when you pedal into a wind, it turns into a gale.  Someone told me that once.  That person, once again, was right.  But I didn't care:  I just wanted to ride.


Then, as I pushed through Howard Beach and along the roads and bridges to the Rockaways, clouds gathered.  By the time I got to the Rockaway Beach boardwalk, the skies were overcast.  Even though they grew grayer and more opaque, they never really darkened.  So, I knew there was no real threat of rain.


But by the time I got to Point Lookout, I felt I was looking at what Andrew Wyeth might have painted had he lived in a coastal town:

Still, the ride was more than pleasant and, surprisingly, didn't take much longer than it normally did.  I also wasn't tired.  

The upside to pedaling in the wind, of course, is that when you turn around, it's at your back.  Arielle really lived up to her name:  I felt like I was floating over the roads through Lido Beach, Long Beach and Atlantic Beach, and over the bridge to Far Rockaway.  Even when riding the boardwalk, I felt like I was on a magic carpet powered by Eddie Mercx, Jeanne Longo and a Russian sprinter or two.  

Things probably never would have gone so smoothly had I attended that function I really didn't have to attend!

Food Choices While Cycling

Starting a ride in the middle of the afternoon when you haven't had anything to eat can get you hungry very. very quickly.  All sorts of things start to look interesting and appealing.

And some things start to seem almost surreal:

A Halal Gourmet Hamburger?  Not so long ago, it never would have occurred to me to use the words "gourmet" and "hamburger" together.  And, while the idea of a Halal hamburger seemed plausible to me as soon as I knew what "Halal" meant, I'm not so sure I'd be thinking about hamburgers if I were thinking about eating Halal.  

Still, I just might go back and try it.  I wouldn't be surprised if it were good--whether or not I were riding my bike after not eating anything.

Not A Hipster Fixie

I know that I've ranted and railed against "hipster fixies," espcially their garish color schemes (if, indeed, they can be called "schemes).  However, I rather liked this bike, which I saw on my way to work today:

For one thing, it cannot be properly considered a "hipster fixie."  It is indeed a fixie, but its frame is from a department-store mountain bike.  Plus, the bike is used for  restaurant deliveries.  Finally, the man who rides it is anything but a hipster:  He's a Salvadorean immigrant who was happy that I took the photo. 

I complimented the color scheme--which he did himself:  al frente, la rueda roja con la llanta amarilla; y, a trasera, al reves.  He complimented my Spanish, which makes him a truly nice man. (Really!)

Just for the sake of contrast, I propped Vera in the same spot after he left with the non-hipster fixie:

Bicycles Are For The Summer

Mention "bicycle movies" or "movies with bicycles" and the first ones that come to most people's minds are Ladri di Biciclette (usually translated as The Bicycle Thief, but is literally Bicycle Thieves) and Breaking Away.  Both, I think, deserve their reputations, although BA is a bit more of a "feel-good" film than LdB.  

I've seen both more than once.   Seeing either one reminds me of what Robert Graves said about Shakespeare:  In spite of all the people who say he's very good, he really is very good.  

Anyway, there's a lesser-known (at least here in the US) bicycle film that I'd like to see again. Las Bicicletas Son Para El Verano (Bicycles Are For The Summer), released in 1985, was directed by Jaime Chavarri and based an eponymous play written by Fernando Fernan Gomez.  I have not seen the play, but it was well-reviewed.  I imagine it deserved those reviews if the film is in any way true to it.

The play and movie take place during the Spanish Civil War.  Luisito, the son of upper-middle-class Madrilenos Don Luis and Dona Dolores (Sorry, my keyboard doesn't have accent marks or tildes!)  wants a new bicycle, in spite of having failed his exams.  However, the war forces his parents to delay the purchase of his bicycle and that delay, like the war itself, drags on longer than any of them expected. 

More than anything, it's a story of survival and adaptation.  In that sense, it has more in common with LdB than with BA, although the dreams and hopes of one of the characters are as central to it as they are in BA.  I'll try not to give too much away in saying that, in time, Luisito has to abandon not only his hope of getting a bicycle, but his education and his dreams of becoming a writer, much as his father did.  Meanwhile, Luisito's sister Manolita has to abandon her dreams of becoming an actress after having a baby with a soldier who dies.  

Also, the story reveals class resentments between the family and their neighbors and friends but how, ultimately, they have to rely on each other in order to survive the privations of the war and the subsequent Franco regime.

Those of you who are fans of Pedro Almodovar will be interested in this film because it features one of the early appearances of an actress who would later star in several of his films:  Victoria Abril.

I don't know when I'll get to see the play.  But I'm sure there's a DVD of the film to be had somewhere.  The first chance I get, I'll watch it.

The Joy Of A Staycation: Biking In The City

I like to take a "big" trip every now and again.  But Memorial Day weekend is one of those times I'd prefer not to.  The weather has been warm and sticky; it rained on and off on Friday and Saturday.  But one of the great things about being in New York on a weekend like this one can be seen here:

This is the view down Washington Street, near the entrance to the Holland Tunnel.  I was on a bike, and I had it all to myself.  


Ironically, the most congested part of Manhattan may well have been the Greenway along the Hudson River, only a block away.  Tourists always flock to the Intrepid, which is about two miles up the Greenway, for this holiday.  And, it seems that everyone who isn't going there renting a bike, or stopping to sprawl themselves across the Greenway to take photos.


Here is another view from Spring Street:

After my ride, I went to the barbeque my fiend Millie has every year.  I more than made up for all of the calories I burned on my ride!

500 Posts, And A Bike That Will Not Help Your Resume

This blog has been in existence for almost two years.  And this is the 500th post on it.  


To celebrate, I'm posting a picture of a bike that "will not help your resume":

The Cannibal And The Statue

Do you want to see a sign of a real hard-core racing bike?

I could barely fit a business card between the brake bridge and tire--which is a 700X25C.  Yes, that bike isn't meant to take anything more than 700X23.


The bike is an Eddy Mercx road frame from 1994, built as a single-speed with only a front brake.  It owner, who came to unlock it as I was about to snap a picture of the whole bike, says, "It rides as great as ever."  I'm sure it does:  Well-made European lugged frames constructed from Reynolds, Columbus, Excelle, Falk or Durifort tubing tend to ride well forever as long as you don't crash them.


One interesting thing about the Mercx bicycles is that if you removed their decals and paint jobs, they'd be indistinguishable (to most people, anyway) from the classic Italian frames of the day,  They even had Italian threads.  But they were made in Belgium, the home country of "The Cannibal"--whom I still believe to be the greatest bicycle racer of all time.


Not far from the bike in question was the Statue of Liberty

  It's in front of the Loews Building on East 61st Street, just down the block from the Hotel Pierre.  This is one of the "drafts," if you will, of the more famous (and much larger) version that looms over the harbor.  

I wonder whether someone has told some tourist that it is indeed that Statue of Liberty, and said tourists went home believing that they indeed saw the "original."

Detroit: The Next Portland--Or Amsterdam?

Henry Ford with his bicycle in the early 1890's. 

David Byrne has said that one of the most memorable bike rides he ever took was in Detroit.  He described the backdrop to his Motor City randonnee as a "postapocalyptic landscape at its finest" and rates that trip with his spin along the Bosprous and Sea of Mamara in Istanbul.

Somehow I'm not surprised that he was so taken with the devastation of Detroit.  He is, after all, David Byrne.  But, if you've been following this blog, you know that some of my favorite rides here in New York take me through industrial areas of the Bronx, Brooklyn and Long Island City, which are so free of traffic on weekends that they're weirdly bucolic.  I feel the same way about the Wall Street area; the only problem with it is that there isn't nearly as much of it as there are of those old industrial areas.

The thing about Detroit is that he's not the only one who thinks it's an excellent cycling city.  Many riders, who live within the city limits as well as in the suburbs, appreciate the fact that the city is flat, save for the area around Dorais Park. They also like the extensive networks of paths and greenways that line the Detroit River, which separates the city from Windsor, Ontario in Canada. ("Detroit" means "strait" in French.)  In fact, some people cross the border to ride in the home of the Big Three.  

Interestingly (and, I'm sure for the people involved, exasperatingly), there is no way to cycle between Detroit and Windsor.  In fact, the buses from Windsor will allow bicycles only if they're disassembled and in a box or bag.    Even then, the driver has the authority to deny access if he or she feels the bus is too crowded.  On the other hand, there is work on developing a water taxi between the two cities, and it's believed that bicycles will be allowed on them.

Another interesting aspect to Motor City Cycling is that it has a velodrome--in Dorais Park.  If you know about the city's history, it may not be such a surprise:  After all, it was a center for bicycle manufacturing and riding before the auto industry developed.  (In fact, Henry Ford and others associated with the auto industry began as bicycle makers and mechanics.) Even after Chevys and Fords started rolling off the assembly lines, Detroit kept the flame of bicycle racing alive during the Dark Ages (at least for American racing) that followed World War II.

But, in another layer of irony, the Dorais Park Velodrome doesn't go that far back.  In fact, construction on it began during the riots of 1967, and it opened on the day Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon in 1969.  It lay unused and all but abandoned until it was discovered by suburban cyclists who were using the hill for training.

I am not an urban planner or an expert on Detroit.  But I, like almost everyone else in the USA, have some ideas about what Detroit's future could be like.  Denizens of Pittsburgh realized that the steel industry would never be as significant as it was until the 1970's.  So, they took advantage of the fact that the city had some first-class academic institutions like the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie-Mellon, and turned the erstwhile Steel City into a center for biomedical research and technology, much as Boston did earlier.  

Detroit doesn't have the sort of academic institutions that Boston and Pittsburgh have.  But what a lot of people don't realize is that not very far from Detroit are vast stretches of farms.  Michigan has always been a leading agricultural state; perhaps Detroit could become a center of agronomy and other "green"technology.

But even more important (for the purposes of this blog, anyway), the city might be able to take advantage of the shrinkage even its Mayor, David Bing, has advocated.  A more compact Detroit could be ideal for the development of a cycling infrastructure.  Perhaps, in a smaller city, the residential and business areas would be closer together, which would make bicycle commuting--and cycling in general--more feasible and enjoyable for more people.  

Who knows?  Perhaps Detroit could be the next Portland--or Amsterdam.

Jerry's Bike

I wasn't a devotee of the Seinfeld show.  Then again, I don't think I've ever been a devotee of any TV show in a very long time.


However, I will admit that I saw a few episodes of Seinfeld during its original run.  One thing I remember is that he always had a bicycle--which neither he nor anyone else seemed to ride--hanging in his apartment.


I was reminded of it when I saw this bike:

As I recall, the bike in Seinfeld's apartment was a Klein mountain bike--in a really scary fluorescent green that makes the bike in the photo seem restrained.  Actually, this bike is probably the most understated Klein mountain bike I've ever seen.


Although they weren't my cup of tea, some Klein road bikes, like this one,  weren't bad-looking:

In the mid-1970's, Klein was one of the first builders to make bicycle frames from oversized aluminum tubing.  Trek took them over around the time Seinfeld's show began its run.  It seems that Trek made Kleins until about five years ago.  Since then, I haven't seen any new Kleins--or, for whatever reasons, the shops I frequent aren't selling them.

Did You Catch That? Do You Wish You Hadn't?

When I was writing for a newspaper, we referred to some days as "slow news days."  That's when we'd publish stories about the spouse of someone who was elected president in some country none of our readers had ever heard of.  Or, for fun, we might put in a story about a duck crossing at the foot of a skyscraper.  You get the idea.

It was common knowledge that Wednesday was usually the slowest news day.

Now, what I write about in this blog isn't always news.  So what do I call a day like this.  "Slow blog day" doesn't sound quite right.

In any event, I'm going to take this post to present something that might make you chuckle or groan, or both, and is utterly inconsequential.  Here goes:  Along my ride to Point Lookout on Saturday, I came across a restaurant in Long Beach that has, possibly, the worst name in the world--in the English-speaking world,anyway:

Fear not:  There are better posts coming!

A Small But Guilty Pleasure

As I've mentioned in other posts, I don't mind riding in the rain, as long as it isn't cold.  What I like even more, though, is something I've described as "playing chicken with the rain."

So it probably wouldn't surprise you to hear that one of my "guilty pleasures" as a cyclist is starting a ride just as the rain ends and arriving at my destination, or simply ending my ride, just as the rain begins. 

That is exactly what I managed to do today.  Of course, only leaving just as the rain ended, albeit temporarily, was intentional on my part.  Arriving at work just as the rain started again was merely a consequence of crossed fingers (or, what we called "birth control" in my teen years.  Don't ask!)  

Anyway, it's always nice to start the work day feeling as if I'd won, or at least gotten away with something.  Tonight I'll see whether I can do the same going home.

Rainy Day Non-Riding Blues

You know it's May, and you know you're a cyclist, when it feels strange not to have ridden to work.


That is how I felt today.  When I went to out this morning, what fell wasn't just the mere pitter-patter of a morning shower or a tingly, misty drizzle.  Rather, the rain fell so heavily I could barely see out my window.


The weather alone might not have dissuaded me from riding to work.  However, I had two far-flung appointments more than ten miles from each other, and each was more than fifteen miles from work.  Perhaps cycling to them would have  been a character-building experience, had I been younger.  But I wasn't thinking much about building character today.


As I rode the train and bus, I felt a little guilty--and, paradoxically, cheated--over not riding today.  I guess I'm greedy:  We had gorgeous weather this weekend and, of course, I did two longish rides.  So I wanted to continue the "high" I got from those rides.  


I  got to work and found only two bikes parked in the racks. One looked as if it had been there long before today.  Its owner could at least have given it the treatment it deserves: