An Old Conversion

In an earlier post, I wrote about the Schwinn Super Sport, a bicycle Schwinn produced from 1962 until 1973. 

At the time, Schwinn marketed it as a “lightweight” model.  It was indeed lighter than the Varsity or Continental, which were essentially ten-speed tanks.  The Super Sport featured a frame made of Chrome-Molybdenum tubing and most of its components, including the rims, were aluminum alloy.  One of the notable exceptions was the one-piece “Ashtabula” crank of the kind commonly found on cruisers, heavyweights and kids’ bikes.  (Some of those kinds of bikes, on which weight is no object, still come equipped with such cranks.)

However, it was possible to take a couple of pounds off the bike by changing the crankset.  At least one company offered a bottom bracket assembly that allowed the use of cotterless alloy cranks on frames made for Ashtabula cranks.  They seem to have been most widely used on motocross bikes; around the time that sport was developing, Gary Fisher, Joe Breeze, Tom Ritchey and other early mountain bikers were using crank adapters on old Schwinn balloon-tire bikes they adapted for use with derailleur gears.  (Most of those bikes came with single-gear coaster brake hubs as original equipment.)  I haven’t seen, or even thought about such a crank conversion in ages—until today.

This bike was parked, with a few other bikes that were being used for deliveries, outside a bodega/takeout luncheonette not far from where I live.  I spotted it on my way home from a lunchtime ride:

Unfortunately, as the bikes were locked to each other, I couldn’t get a better photograph.  But I think you can see how the bike was converted.

I’m guessing that this conversion was done some time ago, as the crank is a Sugino Maxy from the mid-1970’s that shows its age.  At the time, they were one of the least expensive cotterless cranksets made.  Many mid-level Japanese bikes—including the Nishiki International I once owned—came with the Maxy as standard equipment.

It wasn’t bad:  It was definitely an improvement over the cottered steel cranksets found on most European bikes in the same price range, or Ashtabula cranks.  On the Maxy (and other cranksets like the Takagi Tourney), the large chainring was “swaged” (pressed) onto the inside of the right crank arm, and the smaller chainring was bolted to it.

That meant, of course, that the outer chainring couldn’t be changed.  But cyclists rarely wanted to make such a change:  Outer chainrings usually had 50 or 52 teeth, and the smallest cog on most freewheels had 14 teeth.  (Thirteen-tooth cogs were still exotic items used by professional racers.)  And, it was believed, few people would ride enough miles to wear out the large chainring. 

Anyway, the Super Sport was probably the one full-sized, derailleur-equipped bike on which such a crank conversion made sense.  (The next model up in Schwinn’s lineup, the Super Sport, came with a Nervar or TA cotterless crankset.) 

Because the Maxy is of more or less the same era as the bike (and the conversion kit), it didn’t look out of place.  All of the other components, save one, were original.  The rear derailleur—an all-black Shimano Deore—is definitely an improvement over the Schwinn-branded Huret Allvit that came with the bike.  I couldn’t photograph the bike from an angle in which I could show the derailleur, but I think you’ll understand (and perhaps agree) when I say that it screams “replacement part” in a way the crankset doesn’t.

A Frustrated Mechanic?

Most of the world uses the Metric system to measure things. 

My recalcitrant country-men and -women (I'm not politically correct enough to say "countrypeople"!) will have none of it:  We still cling to the Imperial/Avoirdupois system, and measure heat or cold in Farhenheit rather than Celsius temperatures.

About three decades ago, the powers-that-be in the world's bicycle industries talked of adopting a universal standards. At the time, most of the world's bikes came with English, French or Italian threadings for bottom brackets, freewheels (There weren't any cassette freehubs in those days.), headests, stems and pedals.  English measurements were expressed in inches, while French and Italian were in milli/centimeters.  Older and lower-priced American bikes had unique threads and other dimensions that were expressed in fractions and inches. But most bikes from Japan and current or former British colonies had English threads, while most Continental European bikes that weren't from Italy had French threads.

A strange thing happened, though.  French threading was dropped altogether.  Italian bikes--and some French and other Continental (e.g., Belgian) racing bikes adopted Italian standards.  But the rest of the world adhered to English standards--at the same time they started to size their bikes (even those intended for export to the US) in centimeters rather than inches and equipped them with 700C rather than 27" wheels.

I thought about all of this on seeing this graffito:

Was this person protesting the adoption of the Metric system?  Perhaps he/she was accustomed to ordering pints of beer in a bar/pub. Or, perhaps, he or she was a good ol' Amurrrikun mechanic who's sick of the half-Imperial, half-metric system we have in bicycling.

Topless Or Fat-Bottomed?

If you're my age, or older, you remember the hoopla that accompanied the release of Queen's album Jazz.  It's the one that includes, among other songs, "Bicycle Race" and "Fat Bottomed Girls", which were also released as a "double-A side" single record.  

To promote the record and album, Queen staged a bicycle race with 65 nude young women:

I'm in the third row, fifth from the left.

As you can imagine, they had to retouch that photo (There was no Photoshop in those days!) any number of times to keep from running afoul of various local decency laws.  

Fast-forward thirty-five years:  Within the past month, dozens of municipalities--including Portland, San Francisco and Mexico City--staged massive nude bike rides.

I was almost tempted to find such a ride.  The weather has been so hot here!  That got me to thinking about one thing I can't do now that I could do until a few years ago.

You guessed it:  riding topless!  Actually, back when I was the "before" photo, I very rarely rode without a jersey or some other kind of top.  For one thing, I have always looked better with clothes than without. (Most people do. Trust me, I know!)  But, more to the point, I have fair skin and therefore burn easily.  And I always found sunburn on my shoulders, neck and back to be particularly painful. That, by the way, is also the reason why I almost never rode in a tank top or sleeveless jersey.  

But, one day, I just might ride au naturel.  If I'm doing it with a hundred other cyclists, maybe nobody will notice.  They just might compliment my bike!

Wheels By The Tower

The Astro Tower, an iconic but decaying structure by the Coney Island boardwalk, swayed in the wind.  It hadn't been in use for a few years, so it was already starting to crumble before Superstorm Sandy struck.  So, it's really no surprise that the Tower was teetering.

The operators of Luna Park, the Cyclone and other Coney Island attractions feared that they'd have to close for the Fourth of July weekend.  That might have put a few people out of business altogether.  Fortunately for them, enough of the Tower was removed for the city to declare the area safe for tourists.

The Daily News--which has long billed itself as "New York's Picture Newspaper" published, not surprisingly, some stark if somewhat sensationalistic images of the Tower.  However, in its article announcing that Luna Park would be open for the weekend, the newspaper's editors included a photo that only tangentially related to the story.  Still, it was my favorite:

The Tower is the white structure to the left.  The main part of the photo seems to be a composition of wheels.  It could almost be included in an ad or article about alternative energy sources.

Rad Dogs And English Bikes

The three H's:  hot, humid, holiday.

This weekend has had all three.  Normally, I wouldn't cycle to a beach area on such a weekend--especially on a Saturday.  However, there was so much of the first two H's that I went because I figured, correctly, that it would be a bit cooler by the water.

Also, Arielle wanted to sunbathe:

I never would have expected that of her.  But it makes sense:  Being a Mercian, she's finished with some good, old-fashioned English stove enamel.  Besides, Brits like to spend time in the sun and by the surf as much as anyone else does!

So, apparently, do dogs:

Yes, people actually walked those dogs into the water.  The tide was so far out at Point Lookout that, it seemed, people could have walked across the bay.

Actually, those canines are patrol dogs and the folks walking them are trainers.  Someone told me they're trained to rescue swimmers on Jones Beach, just across the inlet from Point Lookout, and that those dogs can actually swim from PL to JB.

As swimmers and sunbathers don't normally go to Point Lookout, it wasn't crowded.  However, Atlantic, Long and Rockaway Beaches, all of which lost most or all of their boardwalks during Superstorm Sandy, were full of beachgoers.  Still, except for a stretch of Long Beach, there wasn't as much traffic as I expected.

I'm glad that people are going to those beaches again.  I just don't want too many of them to go when I want to ride my bike to them!

Leaving The Field

Jurgen van den Broeck pulled out of the Tour de France yesterday, before the sixth stage.  The day before, he injured his knee in a pile-up just 200 meters before the end of the fifth stage.

Last year, he finished fourth, thanks due to good showings in the mountains and in time trials (his specialty).  Most analysts believed that had  an outside chance of winning the race.  

Interestingly, his first full season as a professional was the one that included Lance Armstrong's penultimate Tour victory in 2004.  He remained with the team for two more seasons and seems not to have been involved in the scandal that cost Lance his titles.

Here is van den Broeck in last year's Tour:

If he can ride through that, he can overcome his knee injury.  I wish him well.

A Parade of Bicycles for the Fourth of July

Today, in parades all over the nation, we will see bicycles decorated for the occasion.  Some are embodiments of patriotic fervor, like this bike:

From It's Overflowing

I'm not sure what brand it is, or whether it's even made in the US.  It has an American flag on its seat tube, but it looks new enough not to have been made here.  Still, it looks like an old American cruiser; it even has an Ashtabula crank--unlike the retro-repro models, which usually have cheap three-piece cotterless cranks.

But I'm not going to quibble.  For contrast, here's something with a more contemporary flair:

From Jersey Knitter

"Jersey Knitter" decorated those bikes a few years ago for the parade in the Garden State community of Montclair.  I would imagine that when those colors spin, the visual effect might be like a pinwheel firework.

In contrast to those examples of patriotic pedal power, here's a Dutch-style city bike decked out for the most American of holidays:

From  Detroit Mommies

In some weird way, this bike makes sense. If nothing else, the white bike makes a good "canvas", if you will, for the color palette.  Also, in a weird way, it makes sense historically.  After all, were it not for the Dutch (and French, Spanish and Poles), the American colonies might not have gained their independence from the British crown.  In fact, the Netherlands was the first nation to recognize the United States of America as a sovereign country.

Plus, the Dutch gave the world Mondrian. What would Look bicycles and the LaVie Claire team used for their logos if they didn't have Mondrian's compositions of lines and primary colors?

Rocket Bike

Pretty much all things that can be done--and a few things you wouldn't want to do--on a mountain bike have been done in Moab, Utah.

They include this Fourth of July celebration.  At least, I hope it was a Fourth of July celebration.  Otherwise. there are at least a couple of really crazy cyclists in the Colorado Plateau's  Mecca of Mountain Biking.

I Raced On This Bike: Colnago Arabesque

After reading some of my other posts, some might argue that the bike of which I'm going to write in this post is the best racing machine I ever owned or rode.

In future posts, I'll tell you why it wasn't--at least, not for me--and which bike was.  Still, it was a great bike and I sold it to buy my next racing bike (Mondonico) only because I thought it might be a better fit.

If I do say myself, though, it's hard to deny that my Colnago Arabesque was pretty, or at least had an interesting style. If nothing else, it didn't look just like other Italian racing bikes of its time.  Although it was essentially the same in geometry as the Colnago "Master", the Arabesque had a few nice touches the Master lacked:

Like my Mondonico, my Colnago Arabesque was constructed from Columbus SL tubing:  the lightest available from the company at that time.  Many other riders I knew, and rode against, at the time were convinced that bikes built from Columbus were stiffer than those made from Reynolds, Ishiwata, Tange or Vitus tubings.  That may well have been true, but I found that bikes with short wheelbases constructed from Columbus SL tubing gave a harsh enough ride that I might not have ridden as fast as I might have on, say, a Reynolds 531 or 753 bike. (853 wasn't yet available).

Plus, I have to say that while the bike's workmanship and finish were pretty good, they weren't quite up to the standards one might expect from other top-flight bikes. Given that the Colnago was my first elite-level Italian bike, I was surprised at how easily the paint chipped.

Still, I must say that the Colnago Arabesque was a fast bike and its harshness was mitigated at least somewhat by the tubular (sew-up) tires I usually rode on them.  Most high-pressure racing clinchers of the time rode harshly; tubulars were more resilient.  I used one of Vittoria's less expensive models for training rides on Mavic GP4 rims; for races and other fast rides, I rode some nice French Wolber "Course" or Czech Barum tires on Mavic GEL 330 rims.

Now, given the criticisms I've made of this bike, I still can't say that it's not the reason I wasn't a better racer!

I sold it to a guy who called himself Joneszy.  He was a bike mechanic who claimed that chrome-moly tubing was actually aluminum and called cogs "clogs".  Still, he knew enough to know that the Arabesque was a good fit for him, as he had a longer torso than mine.

I didn't see him again.  I didn't see the Arabesque for a few years until Tammy and I were walking along Flatbush Avenue near the Brooklyn Academy of Music.  A middle-aged black man stopped for a traffic light; his bike caught my eye.  Yes, it was my old Arabesque.

"You bought that from Joneszy, didn't you?"

"Yeah...How did you know?"

"I sold it to him."

Of course, he wanted to know how I knew it was the same bike. I pointed to a decal I placed on the downtube, just behind the head tube lug.  The paint chipped there; the silver and black decal--which came with someone's Huret Success titanium derailleur--was at least tasteful, and just big enough to cover the chip.

What were the chances of anyone else having a Colnago Arabesque with a Huret Success decal in the exact same spot?

By The Time We Got To Stonewall

You've all heard "Woodstock" by Crosby Stills Nash & Young.  If you haven't, you have 43 years of catching-up to do.

I'll bet that unless you're one of her fans, you probably didn't know that Joni Mitchell actually wrote the song.  She was going to perform it, but wasn't able to go to the festival.  So CSNY--who were performing only for the second time as a group--did it.

But I digress.  I was thinking about that song--and about Melanie's "Lay Down" when I took this photo with my cell phone:

Yes, I was in NYC Pride.  I marched with the Anti-Violence Project (and wore one of those T-shirts).  Near the end of the march, we passed the Stonewall Inn, where the events that made Pride possible took place on a hot early summer night in 1969.

It's the first time in four years--and since my surgery--that I've marched.  I normally don't care much for parades--as a marcher or spectator--but I make an exception for Pride.  And marching with the Anti-Violence Project was right for me:  I've been volunteering with them, and they (especially one counselor, "Miss Vicki" Cruz), have helped me to deal with the aftermath of a relationship.

After marching with AVP, I walked over to St. Luke In The Fields--only steps from the end of the march--for a picnic and Evensong. A contingent from the church--and the Episcopal diocese--promenaded down Christopher Street about three hours after AVP.

I don't know how many people marched or spectated, but I'd bet that number is much larger than that of those who performed at, and attended, Woodstock!  And, yes, we were strong and all the other things (except, perhaps, as full of drugs) as were those who went to Max Yasgur's farm to see and hear CSNY, Jimi Hendrix and all of those other legendary performers.

We got Lady Gaga and Edie Windsor.  While Edie's not a performer, she's one of our stars.  At least, she deserves the "star" treatment! 

Needless to say, I didn't do any bike-riding yesterday.  But, ironically, my AVP T-shirt had the same Citi logo as the Citibike program.

Pedaling In Protest

Last night,  I stayed out late, but with good reason.

I volunteered to help the Anti-Violence Project with its outreach.  That meant handing out cards with safety tips and "survival" packets (consisting of male and female condoms and cards with emergency phone numbers) in the Village.  I worked with two other volunteers--one male, the other female, but both named Dan--until about 10 pm.

At the end of our "shift", we came to the Stonewall Inn just in time for a commemoration of the historic event that made the bar famous.  On the night of 28 June 1969, cops showed  up to raid the place.  Such raids of gay bars, most of which were operated by the Mafia, were common in those days.  But on that particular night, bar patrons defied the police.  Several nights of rioting ensued.

In all of the photos I've seen from those demonstrations, I haven't seen anyone on a bicycle.  Admittedly, few adults cycled in New York--or just about anywhere in the US--in those days.  

Now, of course, it's common to see cyclists involved in public protests:  The Occupy demonstrations come to mind. I don't know when bicycles first became a regular feature of  street protests, but I suspect that moment may have come (at least in New York) in 1980.  Then, cyclists rallied to prevent then-Mayor Ed Koch from removing the bike lanes the city had only recently installed:

Hal Ruzal, the longtime mechanic of Bicycle Habitat (and the person who turned me on to Mercians) is in  this photo.  He and Charlie McCorkle, the owner and founder of Habitat,  helped to organize those demonstrations.  In those days, the cycling community was smaller and, in many ways, tighter-knit than it is today.  

I wonder whether Charlie, Hal or any of those other cyclists (who comprised much of the early membership of a fledling organization called Transportation Alternatives) had any idea that they were changing the face of public gatherings.

Bicycles Make Sweden Green

The recent demonstrations in Turkey and Sweden--and the Occupy protests--got me to thinking about the roles bicycles (and cyclists) play in public demonstrations.

By chance, I stumbled over a website containing this:

From 591 Photography Blog

Now, if you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I'd publish that photo just because of the chainguard on the bike in it!  But it has historical significance:  The bike and rider were part of a massive Stockholm demonstration in 1972.


Some argue that this demonstration is to the international "green" or environmental movement as the Stonewall Rebellion is to the LGBT rights movement.  Thousands of people--mostly young, mostly on or with bicycles--brought the city to a virtual standstill for several days in April.

For Love And Gear Shifting

In all of the time I worked in bike shops, I saw one of these derailleurs.  The other day, I actually saw a kid riding with one.  I didn't have the opportunity to photograph it.  But Michael Sweatman, the author of Disraeli Gears (worth the read even if you're not a "gear head"), did:

In the 1960's and 1970's. most childten's bikes,and many city/commuter bikes, had three- or four-speed rear freewheels.  So, a derailleur didn't need much capacity to shift reliably.  

It was for precisely such bikes that the SunTour Love was made.  

Usually, the derailleur was monted with the hanger-plate you see.  The effect is almost surreal:  The plate is about twice the sixe of the derailleur itself.

I never tried one, but I susupect it worked well on the bikes for which it was intended, as did nearly all SunTour derailleurs before the Trimec.

Can you imagine, though, being in the peloton with a derailleur (or any other part) called "Love"?

To The Airport

Today I rode Tosca to the airport.

No, I didn’t embark upon some exotic adventure.  I did nothing more, or less:  I rode to the airport.

 

 

Now, you might be wondering what kind of airport this is, or whether I’ve truly gone mad.  (A few people I know would argue that I can’t “go mad” because you can’t go to someplace where you already are.)  But, I assure you, I rode to an airport.

Unless you’re a fan of dirigibles, have flown private aircraft or know more about the history of aviation than anyone should (or you’re of a certain age), you’ve probably never heard of it.  Now I’ll assure you of something else: It’s just like most other airports in that it’s not located in the place for which it’s named.  Well, not exactly, anyway,

 

Flushing Airport is actually in a Queens neighborhood called College Point—which only briefly had an institution of post-secondary education anywhere within its environs.  The terminal opened in 1927 and, for the first decade of its existence, was the busiest airport in the New York Metropolitan Area.  Believe it or not, it actually had more competition than any area air terminal now has.

 

What most people don’t know is that Newark Airport opened only a year later than Flushing, and LaGuardia a decade after that.  (John F. Kennedy International Airport opened a decade after LaGuardia, under the name of Idlewild.)  And, around the same time that the first aircraft alighted from, and landed in, Flushing, Floyd Bennett Field and a few smaller air terminals opened. 

Like Flushing, most of those early airports are gone.  Floyd Bennett Field became the first Naval Air Station in the United States and, later,  part of the Gateway National Recreation Area and hosts a few bike races, rallies and rides for charity.  Others, like Flushing, are all but forgotten. 

After the first flights departed from, and arrived in, LaGuardia, Flushing served as a staging area for military flights.  After World War II, it served private aircraft as well as skywriters and blimps.

The airport was, unfortunately, the site of several accidents during the 1970’s, including one that killed the pilot and two passengers of a small private plane.  After those accidents, the Federal Aviation Administration determined that Flushing Airport was directly in the flight paths of LaGuardia, JFK and other airports.  (The government needed a study to learn that?)  Finally, in 1984, Flushing Airport was closed.  Even so, it still is listed on the registry of air terminals under the code FLU. 

Since its closure, Flushing Airport has reverted to the marshland it was.  (A creek bisects it.)  The main access road has been blocked off.

 

However, the parking lot is still in use, mainly by contractors. 

 

 

 

 

If nothing else, pedaling by the airport gave me one of the more interesting morning rides I’ve had.  In another irony, Flushing is less than two miles from LaGuardia “as the crow flies”.  Still, it takes about half an hour to drive—or pedal—from one to the other because the irregular shape of the Long Island Sound coastline renders a direct route impossible. 

 

 

 

Driving and pedaling between the two airports takes about the same amount of time because motor vehicles are relegated to the expressways, while cyclists can take a route that, as it turns out, is more direct, via side streets and the World’s Fair Marina promenade. 

Citibike: The New NIMBY?

It looks like Citibike is becoming a NIMBY issue.  

To the great surprise of media pundits (who are, or pretend to be, surprised by just about everything), rich people are getting Citibike kiosks moved away from their fancy buildings while the poor and downtrodden artists of SoHo and The Village are stuck with them.

Only a real-estate lawyer could make such an argument. (I don't think even Citibank's lawyers resort to such duplicity.)  The emphasis, of course, would be on the "lawyer" part:  Any real-estate person worthy of the name would realize that poor, starving artists haven't been in The Village since, say, about 1965 or in SoHo about fifteen years after that.  Even the ones who were starving artists when they moved into their tenements and lofts are probably living off their living spaces, which are worth millions of dollars.

One of the greatest ironies of this story is that it comes in the wake of hysteria about what the supposedly all-powerful "bike lobby" is foisting upon honest, hard-working citizens of this city.  If we are such a powerful lobby, why couldn't we stop Barry Diller and other mega-magnates from having bike stations moved away from their buildings?  I mean, if we're so powerful, why couldn't we prevail over Hasidic Jews who prevented the construction of bike lanes in their communities (South Williamsburg and Borough Park) because they claimed to be offended by scantily-clad female cyclists?

Oh--here's another irony:  A group of Hasidic Jews in Williamsburg has started a Facebook page to campaign for Citibike kiosks in their neighborhood.  Apparently, they recognize the benefits of cycling--for men, anyway--and realize that getting more people out of cars will mean more parking spaces for those who still drive.  Also, I suspect that some want to ride to school, work or whereever, but don't or can't own bicycles because they have large families and live in small houses or apartments.

Having spent a fair amount of time in Hasidic (and even Orthodox) neighborhoods, I can tell you that most are far from being wealthy, even if they own successful businesses or have well-paying positions.  If Steven Sladkus wants to stand up for the "little guy", he might start there.  Oh, and while he's at it, perhaps he can campaign to get Hasidic women on bikes.  After all, you don't have to wear lycra kit to ride a Citibike!

Which Way?

Today I hopped on Arielle with no particular direction in mind.  After wandering down a street near the Botanical Gardens, I found myself entering an expressway:  No sign indicated I was pedaling in its direction.  I couldn't very well turn around, so I channeled my adrenaline, remaining testoserone (if indeed I still have any), and all of the aggression I could muster from thinking about the boyfriend who cost me a job and the girlfriend who cost me my sanity (well, sort of) to high-tail it to the next exit, which got me onto a street I'd never heard of before.  But, I figured, that was better than the world hearing about a cyclist who's a direct descendant of Christopher Columbus and inherited his navigational skills.

About half an hour later, I found myself pedaling up and down hills in Westchester County.  I didn't mind; in fact, I was enjoying the challenge, which I needed.  The day was perfectly clear but warmed up quickly, though not oppressively so.  

In my effort to avoid that same wrong turn, I headed back in the direction of the Throgs Neck Bridge.  There's no way to walk or cycle across it, but there's a rather nice (though often crowded) next to it.  Plus, I know my way home, more or less, from there.

The plan worked until I had to detour around a street that was torn open.  I then found myself wandering, and coming to a place I seem to encounter only by accident:  Westchester Square in the Bronx.  In fact,  I've never cycled to the neighborhood intentionally, although I never regretted finding myself there.  From what I've seen--and what Forgotten New York says--it seems like quite an interesting area.  It's one of the most architecturally varied parts of the city, with everything from churches and cemetery structures built early 19th Century to saltbox houses and Art Deco-inspired apartment buildings. Also, the shopping area  and it's odd to find streets with names like "Mayflower" anywhere in the Big Apple.  

I didn't bring my camera with me, but here's a streetscape from Forgotten New York:

Given that I seem to end up in the neighborhood only by accident, I wonder whether I'd get there if I set out for it on my bike!

Less Powerful Than Sandy, But Hotter Than Liberty

Today I took a ride I've taken many times before:  up to the Bronx, across to Harlem and the George Washington Bridge, then down the Palisades to Jersey City, Bayonne and Staten Island.  

Although high, puffy clouds floated across the sunny sky and breezes lightened the early summer warmth in the air, surprisingly turbulent waves chopped against the Jersey City shoreline:

The water is actually closer than it appears: It lapped up against my tires.  If the Hudson River--really an estuary of the Atlantic at that point--could be so roiled on such a serene day, you can only imagine the storm surge that Sandy brought.   

On the ferry from Staten Island, I got to talking with a young woman and a friend of hers who'd just arrived in New York from California.  So, of course, he wanted to get a look at the Statue of Liberty.  We exchanged e-mail addresses before embarking.  As I crossed Battery Park from the ferry terminal, I chanced upon this:

"My Girl Is Hotter Than The Statue of Liberty"

    

How Real New York Cyclists Cross The East River

When you live in any place--especially a major city--for any period of time, you realize that there are certain "things only tourists do".

For example, Parisians don't visit the Eiffel Tower or go to le Boulevard des Champs-Elysees unless they absolutely must.  And, no Parisian--unless he or she is a student or oherwise on a really tight budget--eats in the cubbyhole restaurants and frites stands along la rue de la Huchette, known locally as Allee des Bacteries.

(OK, so I went up the Eiffel Tower once.  But I was new to town at the time!)

Likewise, New Yorkers don't go to the Statue of Liberty or Radio City Music Hall.  We also don't go to the Empire State Building unless we work there.  (The same held true for the World Trade Center.)

What don't New York cyclists do?  Well, the first thing that comes to my mind is this:

From nycentralparktours

These days,  no Big Apple bike rider pedals across the Brooklyn Bridge unless he or she is part of an organized ride-or under extreme duress.

Of course, at one time there was almost no other practical way for a cyclist to cross between Brooklyn and Manhattan.  For many years, the bike/pedestrian lanes of the Manhattan Bridge were closed.  (Recently, the north walkway reopened, making the Manhattan the only New York City crossing with more than one usable bike lane. )  And, if you entered the Williamsburg Bridge, you really had to wonder whether you and your bike would both make it to the other side:  If the condition of the walkway didn't shake you or your bike apart, you and your bike might be parted from each other en route by someone who, shall we say, knew that you were riding a good bike but had absolutely no intention of riding it himself. (Yes, the thugs were all male in those days

But now, the condition of the Williamsburg has greatly improved and, while we might bemoan the proliferation of hipsters in the neighborhoods on either side of the bridge, you have to say at least this much for them:  They're not going to mug you for your bike.  And the north lane of the Manhattan Bridge offers easy access to one bike lane that actually makes sense: the one that separates cyclists from the traffic entering and exiting the bridge and expressways at Sands Street in Brooklyn.

Plus, there are now daytime ferries between Brooklyn and Manhattan.  I've seen people ride their bikes to the boats in Williamsburg and Grand Army Terminal and disembark at Wall Street.

So now New York cyclists don't use the Brooklyn Bridge, not to show how sophisticated they are, but because, at times, it seems as if all of humanity is walking across it.  And, of course, they're not watching for cyclists:  They're craning their necks, taking photos, embracing, eating, drinking or doing almost anything else you can imagine.  And stateboarders are weaving among them. 

So, it's much easier to ride over the Queensborough (what I usually take, as I live near it), Williamsburgh or Manhattan Bridges to Manhattan.  Besides, if you want a view of the Brooklyn Bridge (and the lower New York harbor), your best bet is the south walkway/bike path of the Manhattan.