Creative Cycling

"The meaning of life came to me while I was washing the dishes.  I wrote it down on a napkin, but it got soaked and the ink ran."

I don't remember who told me that.  It was said in jest, but perhaps it's not such a joke after all.

After all, how many times have you had ideas come to you when you were occupied with something else?  Or, better yet, while you were on your bike, dodging and weaving through traffic or pumping your way up an 8 percent grade?

If you've had inspiration, or simply moments of clarity, while riding your bike, you shouldn't be surprised.  After all, more oxygen is being pumped to our brains, which are probably in a somewhat altered state of consciousness anyway.

I am thinking about that now because I came across this photo of Sir Edward Elgar:

While it says great things about how good cycling can be for our creative processes, it doesn't say much about his relationship with his wife.  Was she a "bike widow" or a "music widow"?

Elgar was an enthusiastic cyclist who often pedaled the 90-mile (150km) round-trip to see his favorite football team, the Wolverhampton Wanderers.  He said that some of his music came to him while he was in the saddle.

That is what this writer said about some of his work:

 I can just imagine Count Tolstoy stopping in the middle of the taiga and hurriedly scribbling War And Peace before re-mounting his wheels.

Speaking of writers, you've probably seen this image of Henry Miller:

 

But I'll bet you haven't seen this one of Thomas Hardy:

Around the same time, one of the very first tandems was ridden by none other than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and his wife:

About a century later,  Patti Smith was helping to make the Meatpacking District--and city bikes--fashionable:

And, of course, no blog post about creative people and great thinkers on bicycles would be complete without this image:

Einstein said that the concept of the Theory of Relativity came to him while he was riding his bicycle.  That makes perfect sense, especially if you believe that the universe is a giant wheel.

Getting More People To Bike To Work

Two weeks ago, I wrote about something that, I believe, is the most important factor in making a city (or culture) "bike friendly".

Today, I'm going to share some of my ideas about something that could turn more drivers into cyclists and, thus, make a city more "bike friendly":  getting more people to ride bikes to work, school and for errands, shopping and other short trips. 

As more than a few bloggers, writers, urban planners and others who've thought about the topic (including yours truly) have said, employers as well as governments can offer people incentives to ride their bikes to work.  Governments can offer things like tax incentives, both to cyclists (or anyone who doesn't use an automobile) and to employers who encourage their employees to ride to work.  Governments could also offer retailers and other small business owners incentives to make it easier to park bikes safely in or around their facilities.

The Federal Commuter Tax Benefit took effect on 1 January 2009.  An employee can receive up to $20 a month for riding his or her bike to work if--and this is a big if--the employer offers the benefit.  As of now, it's not mandatory.  Also, an employee can receive the benefit only if he or she does not receive other transportation benefits in the same month.

Rep. Earl Blumenauer of Oregon has tried to amend the FCTB so bike commuters could receive the transportation benefit and divert the $20 from their own money, rather than asking for it from their employers.  Such attempts have been unsuccessful, possibly because most employers who provide transportation benefits do so through a benefit provider, just as they contract for employee health benefits through insurance companies or state plans.  Although I have no experience in this area, I imagine that it's harder for an employer to get their providers to change a policy than it is for them to change policies regarding benefits they provide in-house, on their own.

It's obvious how such a benefit can help cyclists both in helping to defray the costs of cycling (which, while far less than automotive commuting, can still add up) and to pay less in taxes.  But--again, I speak as a layperson--I should think that employers would like it because, as a pre-tax benefit, it would save them money on taxes as well.

I think governments could do even more.  For instance, those who itemize their deductions  could be allowed for the expenses incurred while cycling to work, just as automotive (or other vehicle) expenses can be deducted.  And, I think greater deductions could be allowed for business owners and employers who offer such things as indoor bicycle parking facilities and facilities in which employees can clean themselves up and change clothes.

As for employers, some interesting and creative suggestions are offered on the website of Muskegon County (Michigan) Ride On!  One is offering "starter kits" consisting of items like patch kits, reflective stickers, water bottles and a bike commuter's handbook to employees.  Another is making arrangements with local bike shops to offer free or subsidized tune-ups on employees' bikes.  Also suggested are having employee groups participate in local cycling events, or for the employers to have such events themselves--as well as recognition for participants as well as those who regularly ride to work.  And, perhaps most enticing of all, employees could receive discounts or subsidies on the purchase of bicycles and other bicycle-commuting necessities.  Or, employers could provide financing or payroll deductions for such purchases.

Any of these ideas--and greater implementation of tax breaks and monetary benefits for commuting--will do more to get people to ride their bikes to and from work than all of the bike lanes that have ever been built.

Stoopidtall

If you're reading this, you've probably seen at least one "funny bike":  you know, the kind with one frame is stacked on top of another.  

I've seen as many as four frames stacked up, with I-don't-know-how-many kilometers of chain connecting the cranks bearing the pedals with conveyor cogs and the sprocket that spins the chain that drives the rear wheel.  It was parked, so I don't know who (or whether anyone) rode it, let alone how he or she would have mounted such a machine.  

Turns out, that bike wasn't nearly as tall as one someone rode (yes, rode) at Ciclavia, a car-free bike ride through Los Angeles streets.  

Now I'm going to show you how much of an East Coaster I am:  I can't believe I typed the "car-free" and "Los Angeles" in the same sentence.  Still, I find it even more incredible that someone was actually astride that contraption.

If you really want to be amazed, here's a video of someone riding it:

That intrepid cyclist is 14.5 feet (about 4 meters) above Santa Monica Boulevard, or wherever he was riding.  Although I admire him, I don't think I would try it at home--or L.A., or anywhere else.

If that bike were ever to come to New York, its name would help it to fit right in:  It's called Stoopidtall.

CycloFemme In Ottawa

Here's something I wish I'd known about sooner:

Today, a new ride is taking place in Ottawa to honor Global Women's Cycling Day, or CycloFemme.

Rides and other events to honor this day--which also happens to be Mother's Day in the US. (Yes, I called my mother!)  Today's ride is the first such event for the Canadian capital.

According to the announcement, women of all ages and cycling abilities are welcome.  And there's no entrance fee. What's not to like?

I've never cycled in Ottawa, but I hear that an active cycling community has developed there.  Given what I experienced when cycling in another Canadian bilingual city--Montreal--I wouldn't be surprised.

A Bike Tom Would Have Liked

Thomas Avenia, who owned one of the first (and, for a long time, one  of the few) shops in the US to sell lightweight bicycles, once told me that track bikes are "the king of bicycles."  He, who lived to be 95 years old, rode one well into his 80's.

I recently spotted one that I think he could have appreciated:

Now, he never would have ridden his with those handlebars:  His own machine, a vintage Frejus, had TTT Pista bars, if I recall correctly.  But the rest of the Bridgestone I spotted would have pleased him.

I think I've seen one or two other Bridgestone track bikes.  This is the first chromed one I've seen.  

If I'm not mistaken, this Bridgestone track bike was built by hand, in a separate area from other Bridgestone bikes.  Most Bridgestones I've seen had clean, well-finished lugs and paint.  They're even better, I think, on this bike.

Bridgestones were originally imported into the US under the name "Kabuki" during the 1970's. In the 1980's and early '90's, Grant Petersen worked for the company and helped to design the bikes that were imported into the US until 1994.  

I feel that the only Japanese bikes that were as good as, or better than, Bridgestones were made by Miyata and Panasonic.  They are also among the most sought-after mass-produced vintage bikes.  

Tom would have appreciated Miyata's and Panasonic's track bikes. But I think this Bridgestone would have done more to remind him of his beloved Frejus.

Silver Lilacs

After yesterday's deluges, riding to work this morning under a sun thinly veiled by high cirrus clouds was simply delightful.  Doing the commute with an engaging man--and good cyclist--made it even better.

His name is Allen.  Or is it Alan?  However, he spelled it, he was keeping up a good pace--and riding an intriguing bike.  I'd seen one or two like it before, but his was the first I'd seen in a large frame size.  I didn't get a chance to photograph it, but I've found images of that model on the web.

It's a Motobecane Le Champion.  He said he bought it used in 1981, in his native California.  I'm not surprised that he's still riding it: The frame, which was hand-brazed with Reynolds 531 tubing, is as solidly as it is beautifully built.  

If I recall correctly, Le Champion was the top Motobecane racing model until the Team Champion, on which Luis Ocana won the 1973 Tour de France, came out.  Allan's Le Champion appeared to be from about 1974 or so, based on decals and paint that looked like this:

Sometime in around 1975, Motobecane started to use blockier lettering rather than the script you see in the photo.  But, in 1974, Le Champions were offered in the color shown. The catalogues referred to it as "silver lilac."  It's one of my favorite bike colors of all time, because it has the character of purple that I so love, but it also has, to some degree, the elegance of silver Cinelli bikes from that same era.  

"Velouria"--who inspired me to start this blog--has a Mercian fixed-gear bike  in a similar color, although I think hers is a bit more purplish.  I love it, too.  It's what I would have chosen for my own Mercians if I hadn't gone with the purple/green (which actually looks purple most of the time) finish they sport.

Le Champions were equipped with a combination of high-end French and Campagnolo components. Alan, or someone else, swapped out the original Campy Nuovo Record derailleurs for Sun Tour Cyclones which, in my opinion, shift better.  And modern Mavic rims were laced to the vintage Campagnolo hubs.  But the bike still had its original Stronglight cranks, Campagnolo brakes and other parts.

He said he'd like to give the bike a "facelift."  Whatever he does, I hope he keeps the original color.

When I Ride--And Don't Ride--In The Rain

I am often asked whether I ride in the rain.  The most precise answer I can give is, "within reason".

What does that mean, exactly?

Well, if it's raining and the temperature is less than 40F (5C), I won't ride.  Likewise, I won't start a "pleasure" ride in the rain unless it's warm and I'm at a seashore. And, unless I absolutely have to be somewhere (e.g., my workplace) and there is no alternative means of transportation, I won't ride if it's raining so heavily that I can just barely see out of the windows of my apartment.

The latter condition prevailed today, just when I had to leave for my commute.  The rain stopped for a few brief interludes throughout the day.  But I knew more was coming.  I think this cell-phone photo I took from the Queensborough Plaza train station tells today's weather story:

The clouds envelop much of the Empire State, Chrysler and UN buildings which, on most days, are clearly visible from the station platform.  

And, yes, more rain came. It fell even harder than what came down when I was leaving my apartment.

An Unintended Victory For Cyclists

Today, 8 May, is celebrated as VE, or Victory in Europe, Day in some countries.

I never paid much attention to that date until I was living in Paris and I encountered a street named for that date.  I was fascinated with the custom of naming streets after historical dates--a practice almost wholly absent in the US--and the number of Parisian streets named after historical figures.  As Google didn't exist in those days, I spent a pretty fair amount of time in the bibliotheques.  That is where I learned, among other things, the significance of 8 mai 1945.

From  Denes.us

I also learned about the significance of bicycles in that conflict.  Though we hear a lot about the evolutionary advances in military technology--such as the ones in aircraft, submarines and munitions--pedal-powered two-wheeled vehicles also played an important role in the war, to the degree that all of the combatant nations (including the US) had bicycle patrols or batallions, and transported bicycles in their ships, tanks and other vehicles.

Germany--which was, at the time, the most technically advanced nation--discovered, as the British, Japanese and Americans soon would, that their most sophisticated forms of transport were all but useless in some of the terrain they encountered.  As an example, when Italian forces landed in Albania, they found that the only ways to advance on the rocky coastline were on bicycles or on foot.  In addition to the harsh terrain, the narrow streets and roads found in much of Europe weren't conducive to motorized transport.  

But, interestingly enough, the armed forces on both sides of the conflict encountered a problem that civilians faced on their home turf:  There simply wasn't enough fuel and other resources.  Sometimes bicycles and even horse-drawn carts were used to transport the very supplies soldiers found in short supply and civilians, at times, couldn't get at all.

From mjgradziel

The severe rationing imposed in nearly all countries that participated in the war--and many that didn't--led, ironically, to improvements (or at least changes) in bicycle technology that we today take for granted.  Rationing would make bicycle production difficult; however, governments in the US and other countries realized that, in the face of gasoline and other shortages, bicycles were the only viable transportation option for many people who were working in jobs deemed essential to the war effort.

From Behance

In 1941, the average bicycle built for adults in the US weighed 57 pounds.  Yes, you read that right.  Bikes built for boys and men often had two top tubes (or a "crossbar" underneath the "camelback" top tube.)  Bikes made for women and girls had long, curving top tubes, and sometimes had another, paralell tube underneath.  Those frame tubes were thick, and (at least on American bikes) joined by welds reinforced by additional metal.  Also, bikes--especially those made for children--typically had "tanks" built between the top tubes.  They contained large batteries that powered the lights and horns that were built into them.

Nearly all of the bikes' components were made of heavy-gauge steel or even cast iron.   Those metals, as well as other materials used in building bikes, were needed for the war effort.  So, in addition to imposing rationing for any and all kinds of resources, the US Government also imposed new regulations on how, and what kinds of, bikes could be built.  Frames had to have a minimum size of 20 inches, which all but ended the production of children's bicycles.  Bicycles built for men could have only one top tube, and were to be built in the "diamond" configuration so familiar to us today. Gone were the "crossbars" found on many bikes.  

Along with the design changes, the government mandated that bicycles use less material.  In 1942, the government told manufacturers that their new bicycles had to weigh 47 pounds or less.  That weight limit further decreased as the war raged on.

So, as much as it pains me to say this, the war was actually good for cyclists, as it led to lighter bicycles--just as the rationing the conflict engendered led to shorter skirts and fewer ruffles and pleats (as well as less of other kinds of ornamentation) on other garments.

A Beacon Or Deterrent To Thieves

If you live in an urban area (in the US, anyway), you've probably seen bikes with tacky or simply ugly paint glopped or blotched on them.  

The bikes' owners so deface them in order to make them less appealing to would-be thieves.

However, some argue that it can have exactly the opposite effect:  Crooks, they say, know that the bike must be good if someone made such an effort to make them visually unappetizing.  

In any event, the bike in the photo turned out to be,  on closer inspection, just a typical '70's Bike Boom ten-speed turned into a single-speed.  It's perfectly reliable transportation, I'm sure, but nothing special. Or, at least, it's not special enough that its owner had to make it seem less special.
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Methode VTT (Velo Tout Terrain)

On New Year's Day, you may have shared a bottle of "champagne" with friends or family members. 

Chances are, though, that it wasn't Champagne.  More than likely, it was probably a sparkling wine prepared according to the Methode Champenoise.

Now, I haven't drunk very much Methode Champenoise wine--or, for that matter, Champagne itself. So, I don't mean to be snobbish or condescending when I make the distinction between sparkling wines. I mention it only because  someone who drinks, makes or sells Champagne, though, would probably be upset if you used the name of their product for the bubbly you drank over the holidays.

What got me thinking about that distinction?, you ask.  Believe it or not, it was a bike parked a couple of blocks from my apartment:

Now, what does a bike from which a Huffy would be an upgrade have to do with a drink some blind French monk invented by accident?  

Take a look at the downtube:

It reads "ATB Style."

I guess it's supposed to mean that the bike is an ATB-style bike.  In what sense, though?  Sure, it has fat tires, upright handlebars and gears.  But it also has the wretched cheap long-arm sidepulls found on so many bad bike-boom ten-sppeds.  Worse, the brakes are supposed to do their work on steel rims--which means that in wet weather, they will hardly work at all.

And, of course, the bike is twice as heavy and about half as strong as a real ATB.  

What I find interesting is that All-Terrain Bike was coined because Joe Breeze, one of the early builders of bikes in this genre, patented the term "mountain bike" and wasn't too happy when Gary Fisher, Fat Chance and other fat-tire pioneers were using the term.    So, one might say that "ATB" is the methode champenoise of off-road bicycles.

Then again, for all I know, ATB might be the monogram of a fashion designer or clothing store.

She's Not Wearing A Helmet, But...

We all know that bicycles and cycling have been used to advertised all sorts of products, even those that seem utterly antithetical to the reasons why people ride bikes.

Given that some of the world's most imaginative advertising  comes from Italy (That is a completely unbiased statement! ;-)), perhaps it's no surprise to see that this ad aired there some years back:



I love the "halo" around one girl's head.  Is it supposed to substitute for a helmets?  You have to admit, though, that those girls look great, and that the shot of them descending that hill is really cool.

Now, to a confession:  During the time I was riding off-road, I drank more Coca-Cola than I had at perhaps any other time in my adult life.  In fact, almost all of the off-road riders--especially those in the then-nascent cult of downhill riding--I knew in those days drank it.  Some even carried it in their water bottles (or, later, Camel Backs).  As "Crazy Ray", one of the guys I used to ride with, said, "It's rocket fuel!"  He was right:  Humans can't ingest very many other things that will give as much of a rush of sugar and caffeine as the "Pause That Refreshes" can.  Remember that back in those days, Starbucks' stores were just starting to open in this part of the US, and they hadn't yet introduced many of the hyper-caffeinated sugar bombs that teenagers and hipsters line up, and pay good money, for.

Of course, given that the ad is Italian, it's easy to read a lot into the "si, si, si" refrain of that ad!

Cherry Blossoms Bloom; I Exhale

Very few things in this world make me as happy as I am when I see cherry blossoms in bloom.

This year, they seem especially full and vibrant.  Perhaps it's because they opened their flowers a bit later than they normally do (or so it seems).  Or, they may seem so bright because Spring came late and the winter, though not exceptionally cold or snowy, seemed interminably gray.

Anyway, I didn't have my regular camera with me when I rode to work today.  So, I used my cell phone to capture the radiance of these cherry blossoms:

  

Broken Threads

While perusing the web, I came across a blog that featured photos like this one:

 There hasn't been a new post on "Busted Carbon" in nearly two years.  However, its author found enough material to keep it going for three years.

Here's another choice shot:

Imagine going more than 70 KPH and, suddenly, your bike's frame splits behind the head tube.  Your handlebars and wheels fly out from under you.  

No mention was made of what happened to that bike's rider.  I hope he or she fared better than this one:

In previous posts, I mentioned that I resisted the "tri-spoke" wheel fad of about two decades ago.  Although I tried a set and liked the ride (for fast rides, anyway), I didn't buy a set after seeing one fail like this:

One of the few carbon-fiber components I've ever owned was a pair of mountain bike handlebars I--in one of my more misguided moments--installed on my Jamis Dakota.  I don't remember what brand the bars were.  But I distinctly recall how they failed when I jumped a creek in Vermont because they ended up like this:

Those strands are as sharp and jagged as shards of broken glass.  After my bars failed that way, I was so glad that I never had a carbon fiber seat post!

What Makes For A "Bike Friendly" City?

Today begins National Bike Month.  And, the 9th of May is National Bike To Work Day.

From Sheepshead Bites

Here in New York I see many more people riding to work, shop and to conduct other activities of their daily lives than I saw twenty-five, or even ten, years ago.   Bike lanes, which were nearly non-existent just a few years ago, wind along the city's shorelines and cut across various neighborhoods and districts. Bike-parking facilities are being built, as well as kiosks for a bike-share program.

However, as I've said in previous posts, these developments don't make the city more "bike friendly" than it was in in the '80's or '90's.  Sure, more people are biking, and know people who are biking.  But you're just as--or perhaps more--likely to be harassed, spat at, cussed out or even run over. 

From my experience as a cyclist, I know that facilities don't make for an atmosphere in which practical, everyday cyclists can ride safely, let alone in a tolerant atmosphere. In the early '80's, I was living in Paris.  The City of Light didn't offer much more in the way of the facilities I've described than New York or other American cities had.  And motor traffic was just as heavy, if not heavier, in part because Parisian streets are typically much narrower than the ones in the Big Apple.  Yet I used to feel safer riding on even the main arteries, such as the boulevards de Champs-Elysees and Saint Michel, than I did on even the smallest side-streets in Staten Island or New Jersey.

What I've just said about cycling in Paris was also true of other French cities in which I've cycled, and in other European 'burgs.  

I've long felt that one major reason why those cities were more bike-friendly is that, in those days, most European drivers also rode bicycles. That is still the case in some European capitals, most notably Amsterdam and Copenhagen.  Once in a great while, a particularly obnoxious motorist would honk his horn repeatedly and shout things that Mr. Berlitz never taught his students.  Such encounters were far less frequent in Europe than they were in America, at least for me.  The European exchanges also seemed less threatening, whether or not I understood the motorist's language.  Even when they drove "close enough to tear off the back of my glove," as I used to describe it, I never felt that I would be turned into a road crepe because the European drivers seemed to understand bicycles and cyclists, and knew how to act and react.

Even with the exponential increase in the number of cyclists in New York and other American cities, the vast majority of motorists don't ride bikes.   For that matter, many of the pedestrians who fill New York bike lanes--and cross into them without watching the traffic-- also never ride. Or, perhaps, they think they're not going to be hit by a cyclist, or if they are, they assume it's the cyclist's fault.

While I'm happy to see bike storage facilities and some of the bike lanes (like the one that leads to the Queensborough /59th Street Bridge), I think we'll continue to see new "ghost bikes" cropping up all over town until we have a couple of generations of motorists who are also cyclists.  And New York and other American cities will be "bike friendly" only in comparison to other cities.  

A Semi-Sweet Goodbye

I have some rather sad news to report.

No, I didn't crash or get diagnosed with some terrible disease.  Rather, it's about something I did somewhat reluctantly.

You see, I sold the Schwinn Collegiate I'd mentioned in a few previous posts.  I actually liked it quite a bit:  While it was heavy and didn't have the nimblest handling (Then again, I can say those things about myself!), it was surprisingly quick when I got it up to speed.  Plus, it did have a certain charm, some of which had to do with the color.

But it was too small for me.  Perhaps I could have gotten a longer seatpost and stem for it, but either one, I felt, would have turned it into a Frankenbike:  Bikes like the Collegiate simply aren't meant to have, and don't look right, with them.

At least the young woman who bought it from me was truly happy to find it.  She lives in Williamsburg and, she told me, another bike "just like" it was stolen from her.  Actually, she said, it was a Collegiate "from around the same time", in a different color.

As she is about 5'5" (about 165 cm), the bike is just the right size for her.  When she test rode it, she looked very comfortable and confident on it.  Plus, she was wearing a sort of "Mad Men" outfit, which somehow looked right.

She was so happy to find the bike that she didn't quibble about the price.  Even if she had, I would been satisfied with selling it to her, as I knew the bike was going "to a good home". That, at least, balances some of the sadness I felt about letting it go.

Biking Among Buds And Blooms

So far, this spring hasn't brought warmth and sunshine at the same time.  Most days, we haven't had either.  As I joked with a co-worker, it's like London without tea time, pub brews and all of the other things for which people journey to Cockaigne, a.k.a. The Big Smoke.

From Rolling In Boston

But I digress. Today we have had fairly cool temperatures with bright sunshine.  On my ride to work, I saw large numbers of trees in bloom.  The cherry blossoms are finally spreading their pink cheer, purple curls of hyacinths are rising from the ground and lilac buds are pulsing from limbs that have lived through another winter.  

Although I don't mind cold weather and overcast skies (as long as I'm not sloshing through sleet!), I can feel myself opening as I ride by spring blooms.

My New Commuter Bags: Koki Bagatelle And Dilly

If you've been following this blog for a while, you know that on most days, I had been commuting with my Carradice Nelson Longflap saddlebag.  On occasion, if I didn't have much to carry, I'd use bungee cords to lash my tote bag to my rear rack.  But, I'd say that the Carradice carried my books, papers, lunch, change of shoes and, sometimes, an extra layer of clothing (or, on hot days, clothes to change in to) on about 95 percent of my commutes during the past five years or so.

It's hard to beat the sheer, flat-out quality of Carradice's canvas bags. Plus, I love the way they look, especially on classic steel bikes (or modern steel bikes inspired by them) like my Mercians.  When I attached a shoulder strap to my green Nelson, it looked something like an old-school duffle, satchel or Danish book bag.

However, taking it off or putting it on the bike isn't quick.  I briefly used a quick-release Bagman support, but I found that the quick-release latches weren't very secure.  I understand that more recent versions of the quick-release Bagman have corrected this problem.  Still, I didn't want to take the trouble of attaching it to my saddle.

Before I started commuting with my Nelson, I used various panniers.  Because of their shape, I found that papers wrinkled and crumpled, and clothes wrinkled.  Also, I found that some panniers had a rather wide profile, which I didn't like when riding in the tight spaces of urban traffic.  The difficulty of maneuvering was further exacerbated when I used baskets that mounted on the sides of the rear rack, as they were even wider and boxier.  (I once snagged one of those baskets on somebody's bumper!)

I could have lived with the Nelson's idiosyncracies.  However, I got a really good buy on a Koki Bagatelle pannier.  i was buying something else on eBay, and the seller just happened to have the new bag, with its tags still on it.  At the price I paid for it, I figured that if it didn't work as a commuter or shopper bag for me, I--or someone else--could find some other use for it.

After two months, the Koki Bagatelle is looking more and more like a "keeper."  The Bagatelle is actually made for small-wheel bikes like Brompton and Dahon. So it is longer, but has a narrower profile, than most other panniers.  That means, among other things, that it protrudes over the rack platform, in contrast to most panniers whose tops are level with the rack platform.

What has surprised me is how stable it is.  It attaches to the rack with two alligator-type clips which are very strong.  

There is nothing to secure the bottom of the pannier to the rack.  Turns out, such a thing is not necessary:  The bag did not bounce, even when I ride on streets that bear more resemblance to the Ho Chi Minh Trail than to thoroughfares in modern first-world countries.  The mounting system also makes the bag easy to install and remove, though the latter is not a one-hand operation:  You have to pull the top of the bag, unclip one of the clips, then the other.  Still, removal is quick, which is particularly nice on a bag that's so secure when it's installed.

Once the bag is removed, you can set it down just about anyplace:  It has a "boot sole" rubber bottom that prevents wear and also keeps the bag from tipping over, even when it's unevenly loaded. 

Another reason I like this bag for my daily commutes is that I'm almost always carrying papers or manuscripts.  The bag's shape makes it very well-suited to this purpose.  I haven't tried carrying my laptop in it, but I would expect that, in its sleeve, my computer would fit very securely.

I happened to get my Bagatelle in a tan canvas material with brown leather trim. Personally, I think it looks great on Vera.  After using it for a couple of weeks, I bought a matching Dilly handlebar bag, which doubles as a shoulder bag.  

While it performs both functions quite well, I have two small complaints: 1. The length of the shoulder strap cannot be easily adjusted, and it's not easy to remove.  So, I have to bundle it up and tuck it inside the bag to keep it from getting caught in my brakes or spokes.  2.  There is no way to clip a light onto it, and the mounting bracket keeps me from using the light I had on my handlebar.  Plus, it's a bit small to use as a tote bag: It's more like a small purse or shoulder pouch.

Koki provides nylon rain covers with all of their bags.  I've ridden my bags in the rain and, while they provide a fair amount of water-resistance, they aren't as watertight as Carradice or, certainly, Ortleib bags.  But the rain covers will keep your gear dry and keep the canvas clean.

All in all, commuting with my Koki Bagatelle pannier and (sometimes) Dilly handlebar bag has been working out very well, and the quality of the bags seems very good.  I have been satisfied enough to take advantage of Koki's clearance sale on last year's models and buy another Bagatelle in another color, and a ""Budgie" handlebar/tote bag (which is a bit larger than the Dilly, but fits on the same mount as the Dilly).

For those of you who like ratings, on a scale from 1 to 10, I give the Bagatelle a 9.5 and the Dilly an 8.5.  My Carradice will return to the role to which it's best suited:  day and weekend trips.

A Beginning: A Fixed Gear And The Wind

Pedal into the wind and let it blow you home.  Or, let the wind take you where you want to go and...

I know that I usually prefer the first option--especially when I'm riding my fixed gear.  Especially if I'm doing something really goofy like a metric century on a fixed gear.

On a clear day, with the wind at my back, I don't feel as if I'm riding a bicycle anymore: Rather, my bike and legs become conduits for the wind that takes me back, the wind that, according to the Navajos, begins life.

And when my ride on a current of wind begins at the ocean, it seems as if the world--or, at least, a season--has begun.

Assembling, In Words And Pictures

What are the most important pieces of writing you have ever read?  

I know that's a biiiig question.  Interpret "important" in any way you like.  And the pieces of writing can be just that--whether they're works of Literature (with a capital L) or a warning label.

For me, those pieces of writing would include three of Shakespeare's plays:  The Tempest, Othello and Macbeth.  They would also include T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock, Victor Hugo's Les Miserables and Sappho's Odes.  And, I must not forget NSC-68, Christine Jorgensen's autobiography (which I read as a teenager in the local public library) and The City of Ladies.

Oh, here's another:  Everybody's Bike Book by the late, great Tom Cuthbertson.  Mechanics tend to think spatially and visually rather than verbally, so anyone who can turn bike mechanics--or any kind of mechanics--into prose that's understandable, much less enjoyable to read, is a truly special kind of writer.

Here is something I am sure Tom, rest his soul, would appreciate:

From Visual.ly

What's On A Woman's Mind?

While looking through one of my discs, I came upon this photo:

I won't claim it as a contemporary counterpart to Le Penseur.  But it got me to thinking nonetheless.

 I recall taking it at a WE Bike meeting in June at Bike Works NYC.  The shop offers a good selection of vintage and vintage-inspired bikes and accessories, as well as high-quality tools and parts.  It's in a space about the size of a Texas closet: Only in New York could such a claustrophobic space house a bike shop!

Anyway, I didn't take any notes about the photo.  So, perhaps, you could supply some.  Perhaps you could come up with a caption or one of those thought-bubbles you see in a comic strip.

What's on this woman's mind in a bike shop?