Signs Of Other Times

The other day, I managed to sneak out for a mid-afternoon ride between classes and conferences with students.  It wasn't a long ride, and it didn't take me far from the college where I teach.  But it did, as rides often do, reveal some interesting and unexpected sights.

In both the "interesting" and "unexpected" categories was this:

One almost never sees a sign like that anymore in the New York Metro area.  For that matter, one rarely sees the kind of store that's attached to it, at least in this area.  

It's at the intersection of East Tremont and Park Avenues in the Bronx.  Yes, the Park Avenue you've all heard of--the one of Zsa Zsa Gabor--extends into the Bronx, hard by the Metro North (formerly New York Central) railroad tracks!

You wouldn't expect to find a store like this on Zsa Zsa's Park. But in this part of the Bronx reside folks not unlike some of my relatives, including two blue-collar uncles of mine who lived in Brooklyn and  went up to the Catskills and sometimes even the Adirondacks to hunt around this time every year.  Their ethnic origins may be different, but their lives and desires are, I believe, similar:  They need to live in an urban area and to get out of it every now and again.  

That is why, even though I've never had any desire to hunt, and have fished only a couple of times, I understand those who love those sports.  Of course, there are very practical reasons to allow hunting:  Deer and other animals that are pursued by hunters no longer have natural predators, so hunters help to keep their population in check. If they didn't, even more animals would starve and freeze to death during the winter.  Also, although I'm not too keen on guns (and support restrictions on access to them) I am not afraid of hunters and other sportsmen, such as competitive shooters, who use them. 

Anyway, the proprietor of the store caught a glimpse of me photographing his signs.  I think he knew that I don't hunt or fish and, barring the collapse of civilization, probably never will.  Still, he was polite and was pleased when I complimented his signs.  "You just don't see these anymore," I said.  He nodded.

The sales clerk gave me their business card.  I told them I'll be back:  I did see a jacket I really like.  And they have hiking boots as well as equipment for all sorts of other sports--but not cycling!

No More Beer Bikes In Amsterdam

Within the past week, I've read articles in The Atlantic and Vanity Fair about Tim Piazza, a Beta Theta Pi pledge at Penn State University.  Those articles confirmed what I have long suspected:  Even though the legal drinking age is 21 almost everywhere in the US, and even though national fraternity organizations (and, often, college and university administrations) claim that "hazing" is not allowed and that fraternity recruitment programs are "alcohol free", the booze flows freely and pledges are often treated terribly.

I can only imagine what would happen if those frats operated in Amsterdam--and, more specifically, had access to something that's been part of its landscape for some time.

I'm talking about the "beer bikes", so beloved by stag parties and other (mostly male) groups who do all manner of things in the Dutch capital (and in other places) they would never do at home.

The "bike" is really more like a cart with pedals.  Whatever one calls it, it's essentially a rolling bar, or at least a rolling beer garden.   Not surprisingly, users of the beer bikes, almost all of whom are tourists, often become rowdy and, to put it politely, have difficulty navigating those vehicles.

So it's also not a surprise that they have become almost as despised by residents of the city as they are beloved by revelers.  Last year, then-mayor Eberhard van der Laan, who died last month, heard the collective cries of "Genoeg is genoeg!" (All right, that's a Google translation.) and instituted a ban on the beer bikes.  

That ban was challenged by beer bike operators and struck down.  However, the other day, the Amsterdam District Court agreed with the ruling.  It took effect the other day.

It's been a long time since I've been in Amsterdam and, I admit, when I was there, I was probably was in an even more altered state of consciousness than most patrons of the beer bikes.  Still, I remember the narrow streets that run alongside, and are punctuated by, the canals.  As I recall, navigating some of those streets is difficult even for sober cyclists, pedestrians and drivers.  And if I had to get up and go to work every day in "The Venice of the North," I probably wouldn't be too happy about losing sleep to, and weaving around, loud drunks.  So, I think I can understand and sympathise with those who wanted the ban.

Now, whether it will curb some of the "undesirable" tourism some city leaders and other residents lament, I don't know.

Who Were They?

Yesterday I wrote about the tragedy in my hometown:  On a sunny, breezy autumn afternoon, a man drove a rented van onto the bike path that rims the Hudson River and mowed down eight cyclists.

Authorities are saying it was a terrorist incident.  That it is, whether or not Sayfullo Saipov, the driver said he committed the act in the name of Isis or some other group, or simply out of his own private rage or torment.  Terror is something that strikes, as Albert Camus wrote in The Plague, la mort est descendue du ciel clair--like death out of the clear blue sky.  Who goes for a ride on a beautiful fall afternoon--whether as part of a tour or a way to unwind after work--and expects to meet his or her destiny at the hands of someone whose face he or she will not see?

In yesterday's post, I mentioned six of the eight victims.  Six came from Argentina, another from Belgium.  I had no information about the other two victims, or the names of the six I mentioned.  Today I will provide those details, for they deserve to live on, even if it's in the confines of a bike blog and through my own limited talents.

Anyway, I learned that the other two victims were, as I somehow suspected, local residents.  In fact, one of them lived almost his entire life literally just a few wheel revolutions from where he was run down.

Nicholas Cleves

That benighted young man was Nicholas Cleves, a 23-year-old software developer who had recently graduated from Skidmore Colllege, less than a four-hour drive from the city.  Before going to Skidmore, he'd spent his whole life in downtown Manhattan where, according to friends and family, he grew up "biking everywhere."  

Darren Drake

The other local victim came from across the river, in New Jersey, where he served on the local board of education in his hometown of New Milford.  Darren Drake would have been 33 years old in two weeks and worked as a project manager in Moody's Analytics, just steps away from the bike path.  

Ann-Laure Decadt

Ann-Laure Decadt, a year younger than Drake, was riding with her mother and two sisters.  They were going to return to Staden, their hometown in the West Flanders province on Belgium, on Friday.  Now they and her husband are waiting for the US authorities to release her remains and no doubt thinking of when and how to tell her two sons--one three years old, the other three months--about her.

 (L to R) Hernan Ferrucci, Alejandro Pagnucco, Ariel Erlij, Hernan Mendoza and Diego Angelini

The other five victims, as I mentioned in the previous post, came from Argentina. They were celebrating the 30th anniversary of their graduation from a high school in Rosario, a town about 350 kilometers northwest of Buenos Aires.  

Hernan Ferrucci, Alejandro Pagnucco, Ariel Erlij, Hernan Mendoza and Diego Angelini were childhood friends.  Their lives since graduation had taken them to far-flung corners of the world but they met again, in a faraway city, as middle-aged men. I would not be surprised to find out that they talked about reuniting again, perhaps five, ten or twenty years from now--or for some occasion or another.

Except, I don't think any of them envisioned being joined in fate with three strangers who were much younger but whose lives, like theirs, were cut short--for reasons neither they, nor anyone besides the driver who mowed them down, can understand.

I Could Have Been...

It could have been me.

I could not get that phrase out of my mind as I rode to work this morning.

It could have been me.

Today dawned bright and clear for me, as it did for them--yesterday.  A beautiful mid-autumn day, sunny, a little chilly but not unpleasantly so, with strong breezes shaking leaves turned red and yellow from their branches and rippling reflections of the sky, glass, steel and concrete at the mouth of the Hudson.  

In other words, the sort of day people picture in their fantasies about bike-riding in New York.

It could have been me.

And so they went for a ride, for fun.  I was riding, too, in an entirely different part of town, from my job back to my apartment.   Though they weren't going to work, many others who followed their path, on bike or on foot, no doubt were.  I myself have ridden along that path, to work and for the same pleasures they were enjoying.

I could have been one of them.

Five came from Argentina--old friends celebrating the 30th anniversary of their graduation from their high school.  Another came from Belgium, with her mother and sister.  They survived because they weren't with her.

I could have been her.

So could any of the kids who were leaving Stuyvesant High School at that very moment.  No doubt some of them sauntered along, or pushed or shoved each other (as high school kids are wont to do) into or along the path.  They would hang out with other kids.  Or they would go to practices in sports they play, languages they are learning, plays in which they are performing or skills for tests they will take and essays they will write in the hopes of getting into the colleges they or their parents choose.  One assumes that one day, at least some of them will be part of some 30th anniversary celebration, wherever in the world they may be.



They could have been among them.

Still others walked dogs, pushed strollers and held hands as they strolled along the nearby piers.  Or they sluiced through crowds on skates and skateboards.  They were all mere blocks away from the 9/11 Memorial and even closer to--though, as fate would have it, a world apart from--the Argentinian and Belgian tourists on bicycles.

I could have been with them.

For a time in my life, I was riding daily along the stretch of the Manhattan Greenway known officially as the Hudson River Greenway-- or more commonly as the West Side Highway Bike Path-- along the stretch that separates Greenwich Village, SoHo and Tribeca from the river.  At that time, it was part of my route to work.  Before and since then, I have ridden there for pleasure--sometimes as part of a city jaunt, as the tourists did yesterday; other times en route to a ferry or bridge that would take me to another part of my ride.  More often than not, I rode alone, but sometimes I'd accompany whomever I happened to meet--along the way to my job or wherever else I happened to go.

They could have been with me.

Every time I pedaled along that path, I was home within a few hours.  Today I will be home about 40 minutes after I leave work and get on my bike.  They, I am sure, thought they were going home, too--today, tomorrow, next week or the week after.  

I could have gone with them.

But they are not going home.  They probably never even imagined that they wouldn't:  They could not have foreseen the way their rides, their vacations, their journeys, would end.

It could have ended that way--for me, for anybody.

The Argentinians, the Belgian, never suspected that under a clear autumn sky in New York, death would descend upon them.  They certainly never expected it to come in the form of a van jumping the barrier that kept all of the other West Street traffic away from them, or for said van to be driven by someone who knew nothing about them except that they were riding bicycles peacefully.  On their bikes, they never expected to meet the fate of the folks sipping drinks at Le Carillon or listening to music at the Bataclan.  Or the ones enjoying a fireworks display on Bastille Day or shopping in a Christmas marketplace.  Or simply out on a summer day.

No one expects it to end that way.

Of those five Argentinians and the Belgian who went for a bike ride--and two others who went for a walk--on the West Side Bike Path, all that remain are mangled bicycles and shards of clothing and other personal items.  They went for a stroll, they went for a ride, and each of them is gone, gone, gone.

It could have been me.


I can only be grateful that it wasn't.  My thoughts are with the victims.

Your Halloween Ride: Do It Right!

So you're going for a Halloween bike ride, are you?

There are some very important questions to answer.

Do you dress yourself up?

Or, do you dress up your bike?

Or both?

And who, if anybody, do you bring with you?

Finally, are you going to ride after dark?

If you do, be sure your lights are working!

Into The Fall And The Sunset

You really know you're on a Fall ride when you see this:

That, along stretch of the East Coast Greenway that winds its way from Pelham Bay, near City Island, to Pelham Manor in Westchester County.  I was maybe half a kilometer from Pelham Manor--astride Arielle, my Mercian Audax.

I didn't get on the road until well after noon.  I didn't regret it, though:  The early morning was the coldest we had since, probably, April.   And I still rode to Connecticut and back, just beating darkness home.

So...I pedaled into blazing shades of orange, red and yellow scattered on the ground on my way up to the Nutmeg State.  And, by the time I reached Randall's Island--with only the RFK Memorial Bridge between me and home--I was riding into those same--or, at least, similar--hues spread against the sky, as the sun set behind me.

Marlee was not impressed. But she was happy to see me.

What A Concept!

In "conceptual art", the idea behind the work takes precedence over traditional aesthetic, technical or material concerns.  Marcel Duchamp's Fountain is often considered the first "conceptual" work.  

A "concept bike", similarly, seems more concerned with some idea--or simply a crazy vision--than with rideability or practicality, at least for 99 percent of cyclists.

What would it be like to ride, instead of a bicycle, the idea of one?

A Meeting In Kool Orange

A week ago, I was pedaling Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear bike, along the very northern tip of Manhattan.  I had no destination in mind:  I was simply enjoying a ride on an unseasonably warm day.  

Just before the Broadway Bridge, I stopped for a light.  So did a fellow crossing the intersection from my left.  I couldn't help but to notice what he rode:

We greeted each other. "Don't see that bike very often," I exclaimed.

Bill bought it, and another just like it in another color--yellow--in Princeton, from a Craigslist ad.  The person who sold it told him it came from a shop in that town.

It was most likely Kopp's, I told him.  At the time the bike was made--the early '70's, from what I could see--Kopp's was one of the few shops where one could have bought that bike.  It was one of the few shops that sold high-quality bikes before the '70's Bike Boom; even as the popularity of bikes surged, it was one of the few places that stocked Schwinn Paramounts and the bike in the photo.

It's a Schwinn Sports Tourer, second in Schwinn's line after the Paramount.  The Sports Tourer was the re-incarnation, if you will, of the Superior, which was made in 1962-63.  The model in the photo was made in 1971, the first year Schwinn made the Sports Tourer--which became the Superior in 1976.

The bike Bill rode, like other Sports Tourers and Superiors, was built around a frame constructed from filet-brazed Chrome-molybdenum tubing. The workmanship is quite nice:  the joints are very smooth and rounded.

Ironically, those joints are probably the reason the Sport Tourer and Superior didn't sell well.  Bike books and magazines published at the dawn of the Bike Boom claimed, almost unanimously, that high-quality lightweight bikes had lugged frames.  The brass filets brazed around the joints of bikes like the Sport Tourer and Superior served the same purpose as lugs and, like lugs, made it possible to use thinner gauges of tubing than those used on welded frames.

But those bikes made for nice touring and even all-arounder bikes. Bill replaced the wheels and derailleurs that came with his bike, as well as the handlebar stem.  But he kept the Specialites TA crankset, which he meticulously cleaned and polished.

He also kept another TA item:  the handlebar bag, which LaFuma made for TA.  That bag and crank--and the Brooks B15 saddle-- are almost worth what he paid for the bike!

We enjoyed a pleasant ride into Westchester County and back into the Bronx, chatting about our bikes and lives along the way.  After our ride, he sent me photos of his other bikes.  He has quite the collection, including an early Schwinn Super Sport--which replaced the Superior in 1964 and became Schwinn's third-line bike when the Sports Tourer came out in 1971. 

Perhaps we will ride together again--he, on one of his other bikes, perhaps, and me on one of mine.

At Age 8: Pedal Power!

What was I doing when I was 8 years old...?

Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't as interesting or important as what Nicole Basil did.

Now she's a senior at New Trier High School in the Chicago suburb of Winnetka.  Ten years ago, she asked her parents the sort of question that only a child can ask: one that is innocent but doesn't have a simple answer.  She wondered, aloud, why she could have a bike and other kids couldn't.

Nicole Basil, 18, founded Pedal Power when she was 8 years old.

Now Pedal Power collects and distributes about 300 bikes a year.  After the bikes are brought to distribution centers, mechanics decide which ones can be tuned up and used as motivational rewards for Chicago public elementary school kids.  Those that aren't deemed worthy of repair are sent to the bike repair program of Northside Learning Center, a Chicago high school for students with special needs.

Most of the bikes are donated on the main donation day, which will be on 11 November this year, although bikes can be donated any time at the Home Depot in nearby Evanston or at the George Garner Cyclery stores in Northbrook and Libertyville.  The man after whom the stores are named has been involved with the program since its second year.  "It's impressive that she and her family are so dedicated to this cause," he says.

Nicole was always the "point person" and public face of the program, but she is taking more of the organizational reins from her parents, Mike and Melissa Basil.  Now, she says, she is the "people person" who publicizes Pedal Power and talks to people about prospective new locations.  Meanwhile, her brother Bennett updates the website and handles other responsibilities.  A number of their friends, and other people in the community, are also involved in the project.

Nicole hasn't yet decided where she wants to go to college, but she says she likes "the problem solving aspects" of engineering.

If she could start Pedal Power when she was eight years old and keep it going for a decade, I don't know what problems she can't solve!

Carrying The Wrench For Her Husband

About three weeks ago, I wrote, in passing, about my days as a bike mechanic. I mentioned, among other things, that during the time I worked in bike shops, I knew of no female mechanics and that all of the female bike shop employees I knew about were salespeople.

These days, slowly but steadily increasing numbers of (mostly young) women are donning shop aprons and picking up wrenches.  Some are no doubt encouraged by women-only bike repair classes offered by Recycle A Bicycle and other cooperatives, as well as a few bike shops and other cycling-related organizations.  Also, as I mentioned in my post, Quality Bicycle Products is co-sponsoring scholarships for women to attend the two-week Professional Repair and Shop Operations classes at the United Bicycle Institute.

Najia al-Natour is not likely to attend such classes.  Then again, she doesn't need to: She had a "pro" as a teacher.  In fact, she was married to him.

The 73-year-old Palestinian used to work alongside her husband in front of the house they shared.  He died 12 years ago, leaving her as the sole breadwinner for her family.  Given that there aren't many options available for residents of the Balata refugee camp, where she now lives, and that many residents of the camp and its surrounding area get around on bikes in various states of disrepair, it made sense for her to continue in her husband's profession, despite some opposition.

According to the article I read about her, that opposition came from her children and grandchildren.  I assume that it had something to do with her age, though it may also have to do with her doing a "man's" job.  Whatever the reasons for their, or anyone else's, objections, she doesn't care:  She is proud of her job, she says.

As well she should be.

Not Too Famous For That

How many of you remember Paris Hilton?

I confess:  When she was in the spotlight, I didn't pay attention to her.  That is, until she was arrested for DUI.  It wasn't her arrest that made me take notice.  Rather, it was something she said not long afterward:  "I'm too pretty for prison."

Well, she did get prison time for violating her probation agreement.  That, as I recall, was about a decade ago--around the time Kim Kardashian-this generation's Paris Hilton-- was becoming, well, Kim Kardashian.

So, if Paris Hilton was indeed not "too pretty for prison", then is anyone too rich/famous/talented/beloved or fill-in-the-blank to have his or her bicycle stolen?

Well, it seems that at least one professional athlete's stature didn't keep him from losing his bike.  As a 20-year-old rookie who is currently sidelined with an injury, he's not one of the better-known players in his sport.  However, he is something of a celebrity in the city that is home to his team, for that team, and the sport they play, play large roles in that city's life and identity.

That city is Pittsburgh, and the team is the Steelers of American football.  

JuJu Smith-Schuster, a receiver, rode his Ghost bicycle to the team's practices.  After reporting it missing on Tuesday, he posted a message about it on social media.  "Why people got to be like that?" he wondered.  

He didn't have to wait long to get it back.  That night--Tuesday--a man called from a bar in nearby Mount Oliver after realizing, from a TV news item, that the bike he'd purchased earlier in the day was indeed Smith-Schuster's bike.  The man turned the bike over to police, who turned it over to Smith-Schuster.

Interestingly, Smith-Schuster doesn't have a driver's license, although he says he plans to get one "before the weather gets cold."  He still needs to work on parallel parking, according to one of his teammates.

That wouldn't be a problem, would it, if he rode his bike to work?  All he needs to remember is that he's not too big or talented, and he will not be too famous, to lose his bike.

You Really Can Go Places On A Bike. They Would Know.

I don't get to Philadelphia very often.  It's not New York snobbery or any other sort of disdain that keeps me from going to The City of Brotherly Love:  I simply haven't much occasion to take a trip there.

Still, it seems someone there is listening to me. ;-) At least, that person heard me say, "You can really go places on a Bicycle."

That person may have been in charge Bicycle Coalition Youth Cycling.  That program, previously known as Cadence Youth Cycling, began in 2007 by Ryan Oelkers and former Philadelphia Flyers president Jay Snider.  The Bicycle Coalition took it over in 2013.  Through its decade of service, it has used cycling as a way to teach healthy habits, independence and leadership to high school students.

BCYC offers a scholarship fund for deserving athletes.  One of this year's recipients is Tamia Santiago, an 18-year-old freshman studying computer science at Drexel University.  She says the award "really wasn't about the money."  As a member the BCYC Youth Advisory Committee, she traveled to bicycle summits nationally in addition to participating in Youth Cycling's Race, Triathlon and Cyclocross teams.

Tamia Santiago

The program, she says, helped her in "knowing that there are challenges out there" and that "if you don't attack them, you will never get stronger."  On her college application, she wrote, "My bike is not an object but a tool to build a better me and a better future."

Krystal Philson might have said something similar.  Like Santiago, she is an 18-year-old freshman--at Trinity College, in Hartford, Connecticut.  The program, she says, is "about more than just riding your bike."  It has been an agent for change in her life--actually, in her self:  "It definitely made me a more outgoing person."

Krystal Philson

No doubt that quality came in handy when Ms. Philson attended her first gala and took her first plane ride, both as a result of participating in the Bicycle Coalition Youth Cycling program.  Like Ms. Santiago, she is going places on--and because of--her bike.

UPS: Coming Full Circle In Toronto?

Some cities, apparently, are starting to realize that they simply can't squeeze any more cars, trucks or other motorized vehicles onto downtown streets than are already creeping through them.

Toronto seems to be the latest such town.  And United Parcel Service might just be realizing that fewer vehicles with internal-combustion engines--including the company's own iconic brown delivery trucks--might be good for business.

The city and the package-delivery service are teaming up in a pilot program involving one delivery bicycle in a heavily-trafficked area.  According to Mayor John Tory (what a name for a politician, eh?), the test vehicle, which carries a large cargo hitch in the rear, won't be allowed in bike lanes.  It will, however, be permitted to use designated off-load zones on some city streets.




Currently, about 400 UPS workers deliver 20 million packages annually on 200 delivery vehicles in "The 416."  What the company learns from the pilot will "determine our strategy going forward" for cargo delivery "on a larger scale in Toronto and potentially to other cities across Canada" says UPS Canada President Christopher Atz.  

His company's officials say that this part of their plan for a more sustainable city.  There is reason to think it will succeed:  It first launched such a program in Hamburg, Germany five years ago.  That city is Europe's second-largest seaport, but like many other European cities, its streets are narrow and some areas--including the upscale shopping district of Neuer Wall--are surrounded by water.  In such areas, therefore, there is no space behind the stores where trucks can make deliveries.

If this project takes hold in North America, it could be said that UPS has, in a way, "come full circle":  It started as a bicycle messenger service in Seattle 110 years ago!

Turn, Turn, Turn (Apologies To The Byrds)

I used to know somebody who said she had "tried riding a bike" a number of times.  The reason she never stuck with it, she said, is that she could "only ride straight ahead."  The reason, she said, is that she "never learned how to turn".

This guy seems to have the same problem:

Another Mixte In The Mix

Today's post won't be about Max, or any other cat.

It'll be about a bike.  Specifically, it'll be news about one of my own bikes--as if I haven't given you enough lately.

This item, though, has nothing to do with any of the bikes on the side-bar of this blog.  It has to do with my commuter "beast" bike that almost never enters my apartment.

For three years, that bike was a '70's Schwinn LeTour.  It was one of those rare bikes made in a woman's version big enough to fit (more or less, anyway) someone my height.  

(Funny that when I lived a man, I was of average height.  Now, as a woman, I am taller than about 90 percent of my sisters!)

Well, that bike was stolen.  That is one of the reasons, of course, to have a "beater" bike:  Losing it doesn't hurt as much as having a nicer bike disappear.  You buy such bikes cheaply and spend as little as necessary to make it do whatever you need it to do.  And, if you lose that bike, you repeat the process.

Anyway, I went to a few sidewalk and yard sales and checked Craigslist, where I found this:

From the information I've gleaned, Fuji made this Allegro during its 1986 model year.  The frame is constructed from "Valite" tubing.  How or whether it differs from the carbon steel Fuji and other manufacturers used on their cheaper models, I don't know--or care.  I must say, though, that the bike does feel livelier than the LeTour.  That may be a function of its geometery, which seems a bit tighter.  If nothing else, the wheelbase is shorter.

And, interestingly, this bike has SunTour dropouts with the "ear" for mounting a derailleur.  They actually look like the SunTour dropouts on my Trek 412, except for an additional set of eyelets:  a handy feature, as I've mounted a rack and fenders on the bike.

Originally, the bike had 12 speeds shifted with steel SunTour derailleurs and stem shifters.  As you can see, I took those off and turned the bike into a single speed.  The derailleurs were still operable, but the chain, freewheel and cables were rusted.  So were the springs and all of the other brake hardware.   In any event, I gave the derailleurs, brakes and some other stuff--including the flat-ish bars and brake levers that came with the bike--to Recycle a Bicycle.  And I replaced the brakes with a pair of Raleigh-branded Dia Compe centerpulls I had lying around.

If you read this blog regularly, you won't be surprised to see that I installed Velo Orange Porteur handlebars and bar-end brake levers.  I don't like the hand position on most flat bars:  The grip area of the Porteurs allows me to keep my hands in a position something like that of the ramp and brake lever hood area on the handlebars of my road bikes.  The Porteurs also allow me to use a stem with a slightly longer extension, which improves handling.

So far, this bike is working well as my daily commuter.  And, yes, it's a twin-tube mixte, so I feel at least like I'm riding with some style.  And isn't that what really counts? ;-)