Will They Still Be Riding When They're 64?

We all get older. Some of us get old.  Of course, when we're young, most of us don't think about that:  We simply cannot imagine ourselves not going on as we are.

I got to thinking about that again, ironically, while riding along the waterfront from my neighborhood into Long Island City, Greenpoint and Williamsburg, a.k.a. Hipster Hook. Hipsters are, of course, young by definition.  At least, that's how I understand them to be.  That begs the question of whether one can "age out" of hipsterdom.  (I recall how the hippies used to say young people shouldn't trust anyone over 30.)  What do hipsters become when they're, say, old enough to be President?  Or do they move to other hipster enclaves and lie about their age?

More important (at least in relation to this blog!), will they continue riding their fixed-gear bicycles?  And, if they do (or if they ride any bikes at all), will they still want "deep V" aerodynamic rims in rainbow colors?

I can just picture some hipster retirement community in 40 years. Maybe residents will be riding machines like this:

From Trikes and (odd) Bikes

To tell you the truth, I like it, though I don't feel ready to ride a trike just yet. (Knock on my Phil Woods!)

Why Do The Editors Of "Bicycling" Think New York Is The Best City For Cycling In The USA?

If you read Bicycling, you already know the magazine has just rated my hometown, New York City, as the best city for cycling in the USA.

I am always suspicious of "best of" ratings in any subject. Even when using the most objective criteria, people come to different conclusions about what is "best".

Now, I grant you that more people are riding bikes now than at any other time I can recall.  Best of all, the riders aren't all lycra-clad racer wannabes or twenty-year-olds on tires wider than those on a Hummer.  People are actually riding to work, shop, visit galleries and museums and attend concerts, ballgames and school. Some are riding, well, to ride.

We also have bike lanes, some of which are completely segregated from the streets.  And, of course, we have a bike-share program that has proved immensely popular.  These would have been all but unimaginable only a few years ago.  Moreover, the number of bike shops has grown exponentially a decade after it seemed that online retailers would wipe out all but a few brick-and-mortar establishments. 

But--not to dump Gatorade on anybody's Gran Fondo--I have to wonder whether all of the things I've mentioned actually make New York the "best" cycling city.

Now, it's hard to argue that a bike-share program isn't good for a city's cycling infrastructure and culture.  On the other hand, as I've mentioned in other posts, bike lanes don't necessarily make cycling safer or entice more people to ride.   For one thing, some are so poorly-designed that they actually put cyclists in more peril than they would have found themselves while cycling on the street.  This is particularly true in intersections or spots where lanes begin or end.  For another, some motorists become resentful--and, as a result more agressive and confrontational-- because they feel the lanes have taken parking spaces and roadway against them.  

Even more to the point, when bicycles are segregated from traffic, motorists don't learn how to interact with bicycles, and cyclists don't learn the safest ways to ride.  As I've mentioned in at least one other post, such awareness is what makes many European cities safer (or, at least, to seem so) than their counterparts in the US.

Finally, I have noticed that the Big Apple Bike Boom, if you will, is not spread across the city.  I see many other cyclists on the streets of my neighborhood, Astoria, which is the northern end of what I like to call "Hipster Hook".  The communities of Long Island City, Greenpoint and Williamsburg, as well as the area around the Navy Yard, are part of it, and are full of young, well-educated, sometimes creative and often ambitious people, most of whom are white.  Those characteristics are shared by the cycling-rich neighborhoods of (mostly downtown) Manhattan.  

On the other hand, one still finds relatively few cyclists in the poorer and darker (in residents' skin hues) neighborhoods of central and eastern Brooklyn, upper Manhattan, southeast Queens, the north shore of Staten Island or almost anywhere in the Bronx.  The same holds true for the older white blue-collar neighborhoods of central Queens, southwestern Brooklyn and much of Staten Island.  Moreover, one almost never sees a female cyclist in any of those areas.   

So, while I am happy to see that there are more cyclists--and, most important of all, more consciousness about cycling--here in the Big Apple, I am not sure that those things make it the "best" cycling city in the US.  And we are certainly nowhere near as bike-centric as any number of European cities are.

We Can Bridge These Generations. But Can We Bring Along The Next?

In earlier posts, I’ve described riding along Hipster Hook and other areas where parked bikes now frame cafes, bars, restaurant and shops of one kind and another but where, thirty or twenty or even fifteen years ago, I would encounter no other cyclists.  Back then, those neighborhoods—including Williamsburg and Greenpoint in Brooklyn and Long Island City and Astoria (where I now live) in Queens—were mainly low-to-middle income blue-collar enclaves populated mainly by first- and second-generation immigrants with smatterings of families that had been in this city—and sometimes in the very same houses or apartments—for three or more generations.

“Back in the Day”, as us oldsters (the antithesis of hipsters?) would say, the few cyclists I encountered anywhere in the city or its environs were, interestingly enough, born-and-bred New Yorkers.  Most of us did not have relatives or friends who cycled; you might say we were renegades, a cult, or just geeks of a sort.  It seemed that, in those days, transplants to this city didn’t ride.  I am not sure of whether they didn’t ride before they came here or gave up their two-wheeled vehicles once they got here.  I guess some didn’t plan on remaining for more than a couple of years—many didn’t—and were focused on starting a career or some other particular goal.  Lots of people did nothing but work during the time they lived in this city.

Such conditions prevailed as recently as the mid-to-late 1990’s, when I was a member of the New York Cycle Club.  I occasionally rode with them but, truthfully, I joined for the discounts I could get in bike shops and other establishments.  In any event, most of the cyclists I met on those rides were natives of the Big Apple.  Interestingly enough, most social classes were represented:  I saw construction workers, seamstresses and firefighters as well as teachers, professors, lawyers and bankers.  Admittedly, it wasn’t the most ethnically diverse group, though I was more likely to see faces darker than mine than I would have seen in most health clubs or on most tennis and squash courts.  The demographics I’ve described also applied to the rides and other activities of the local American Youth Hostels chapter, which employed me for a time after I moved back to New York.

Then, as now, I did most of my riding alone or with one or two friends.  They were, as often as not, people who grew up in circumstances similar to my own.  That is probably the reason why many of our conversations, over coffee or beer or whatever, centered on the city’s streets, intersections, bridges and neighborhoods:  Which ones were “best” for cycling?  Which were the most dangerous?  Was anybody or anything worse than a cab driver?  And, unfortunately, more than a few of us related stories of having our bikes stolen.  In fact, I recall several fellow cyclists who were held up or assaulted for their machines as they crossed the Williamsburg Bridge:  Twenty to thirty years ago, the neighborhoods on each side of the bridge were poor and crime-ridden.

Today the majority of cyclists I see in New York are young and have come here from some place else.  Hipster Hook is full of such riders.  Some ride only to commute or shop; others are as committed to riding and training as we were in my day.  I am glad they ride; I am glad to see anyone riding.  But their attitude about cycling, and about themselves, seems very different from ours. I don’t mean that as a criticism; no one should expect “the younger generation” to do as those who came before them.  But, from my admittedly-limited contact with hipster cyclists, I have the impression that their conversations—to the extent that they have them—have less to do with cycling, or even bikes, or the places to ride or not ride.  I guess the latter can be explained by the fact that they are not the minority we were, and they feel less need to pay attention to the “good” and “bad” bike routes because the bike lanes that line their neighborhoods give them a feeling of security.  They have bike-oriented cafes, which no one had even conceived in my youth.

From Filles + Garcons

 But I think one of the biggest differences between us and them is that we were more readily identifiable as cyclists.  Part of that has simply to do with the fact that we were more of a minority.  More to the point, we used equipment and wore garments and accessories—helmets, shorts, jerseys and half-fingered gloves, not to mention cleated shoes—that few others even tried on.  On the other hand, the young hipster riders dress and generally look like many other young people you might find here in New York.  Some—particularly young female pedalers—favor retro threads in fabrics, designs and patterns that were popular, well, in our day—or even earlier.  Or they wear facsimiles or imitations of such clothing.  Others adorn themselves with the severe sartorial straits of knife-blade black pants or tights and leather jackets:  interestingly, not unlike what I wore off-bike for a time in my youth.

It will be interesting to see what the next generation of cyclists will be like—or, indeed, how many of them there will be.  These days, I see more adult cyclists—young as well as, ahem, those of us of a certain age—but I seem to encounter fewer adolescents and children on bikes.  At one time, I’d see few kids on bikes in low-income neighborhoods, in part because of their parents’ or guardians’ fear of crime and in part because some families simply couldn’t afford bikes for their kids.  But these days, I seem to be encountering fewer child and teen riders in the middle- and upper-income neighborhoods of this city and the nearby suburbs.  

What’s disturbing—to me, anyway—about that is that a lot of those kids haven’t learned how to ride.  Nearly everyone who rides as an adult started in childhood:  Even if they abandoned their bikes when they got their drivers’ licenses, they didn’t forget how to ride a bike and could take it up again as an adult. On the other hand, those who don’t learn how to ride as kids rarely learn how to do so as adults.  So they won’t have the opportunity to become the kinds of cyclists we were and are---or hipsters—or whatever the next generation of cyclists in this city will be.

They're (We're) Taking Over!

What will I do when I'm no longer a minority?

All right...That sentence wasn't a cheap trick to get published in some right-wing think tank's house organ.  After all, in at least one sense I am not a minority, although I may become one if I live long enough:  I am white.  And, naturally, I don't see this country or any other developing a majority consisting of transgenders or transsexuals, contrary to Janice Raymond's most fear-addled fantasies.

So, to what "minority" am I referring?



Bike commuters, who else?

As I've mentioned in other posts, I can recall days, weeks and even months when I saw no one else riding a bicycle to work, or for any other purpose.  Such was the case even along the thoroughfares of Hipster Hook, where there are now, probably, more bicycles per capita than in any other place in the United States. 

Back in those days, the American media all but ignored cyclists and cycling.  Occasionally, some newspaper's sports section would include a line or two about the Tour de France or a race that passed, literally, in front of the doors of the editorial offices. 

I never, ever would have imagined hearing a story like the one aired today on National Public Radio.  It reports on the increase in bike commuting around the US.  Not surprisingly, small- to medium- sized cities with colleges or universities in temperate climates (i.e., Davis CA and Boulder CO) had the highest percentages of their populations riding bikes to work. Also not surprising was the fact that Portland OR has one of the highest rates among larger cities.




What also didn't surprise me--unfortunately--was the socio-economic makeup of bike commuters:  We are mainly people at the bottom of the income or the top of the education ladder.  Real progress in making places more bike-friendly--which is to say, developing a culture of cycling, not merely building bike lanes--will happen only when cycling is embraced by people in the middle.  That, by the way, is how almost anything becomes mainstream:  When middle classes embrace it.

Another facet of the report that confirmed my observations is that fewer people cycle to work in the South than in the rest of the country.  Some have said that it has to do with the long, hot summers.  I think that's one part of the story:  For a variety of other reasons, Dixie has developed more of a love for the internal combustion engine than us Yankees or folks in Seattle, Portland or Minneapolis--or even, for that matter, Detroit--have ever had.  Have you ever noticed that most NASCAR drivers--including the sport's elite--come from somewhere between the Potomac and the Rio Grande?

Cycle-commuters probably won't become mainstream--let alone a majority--any time soon.  But we are becoming more visible and numerous (Yes, cycling increases your sexual vitality!) in my part of the world.  What will we do?

The Light Of The Red Lantern

This afternoon I wandered aimlessly from my place through Hipster Hook and along various side-streets in Brooklyn when I chanced upon this:

I simply had to stop.  After all, how often does one see old bicycles and wheels posted above an entrance to an estaminet with a Pabst Blue Ribbon neon sign in the window?

For years, I’ve been hearing about the “bike cafes” and “bike bars” in Portland and a few other places.  A few have opened here in New York during the past two or three years.  I’ve been to a couple such places.  It was a bit difficult to see inside the windows of Red Lantern Bicycles on Myrtle Avenue, just a few blocks from the Brooklyn Academy of Music.  But once I stepped inside, I felt as if I could hang out there all day.

At the bar, a friendly young man named Bradford held court.  I ordered a French-press coffee, even though I normally don’t drink coffee these days.  I could have ordered a cappuccino (which I occasionally drink) as well as other kinds of coffee- and tea- based beverages or a variety of beers they had on tap and in bottles.  They also make their own almond milk and other kinds of non-dairy beverages which can be added to your coffee or tea.

I parked my bike and sauntered around the store, where I met Chombo.  I did a double-take:  For a moment, I thought I’d stepped back about 30 years and met a young Frank Chrinko, the proprietor of Highland Park Cyclery, where I worked.  While his appearance was similar, Chombo’s demeanor was very different: Outgoing and articulate, he patiently explained why one crankset was more expensive than another and what, exactly, would be involved in the fixed-gear conversion a customer was considering for his Fuji from the same era in which I worked at Highland Park Cyclery.

One enters the store in the bar/café area; the bike shop is in the back.  But they seem to work together very well; while one or two customers seemed to be there strictly for one or the other, most seemed to flow between the two, as I did.

While I was there, a young woman named Raven entered with two of her friends.  “I’m not really a cyclist,” she demurred, almost apologetically.   I tried to reassure her that there was no need to explain herself that way:  She is riding a bike; that is what matters.  And, to my mind, no one with her sense of style has to apologize for anything!

Somehow it made sense that I would meet her and her friends, Zack and Mary, at Red Lantern.

Bikes Along The Way

On my way home today, I saw two interesting bikes.  Both are European.  I know that one is from the 1970's; I believe the other is.  Beyond that, though, they are interesting for very different reasons.

I espied the first one when I stopped in Greenpoint Bikes on Manhattan Avenue, near the Pulaski Bridge.  There I was greeted by a friendly young man who didn't mind my browsing or photographing this bike:

Actually, it's the bike in the middle.  As in many shops in the area, space is at a premium, so I didn't ask whether I (or he) could move the bikes, although I think he would have obliged me.

The green machine is a TMS.  At least, it's the only brand marking I could find.  The friendly young man believes it is German and from the 1970's, which makes sense, given what I know about such bikes.  The lugwork was clean and neat, and the paint well-applied in an attractive color scheme.  What really caught my eye, though was a particular detail:

It looked as though the white stripe was painted (or otherwise applied) to the fender at the factory.  That detail is even more striking, I think, on the rear fender:

The bike, as one might expect, is solid and sturdy, not light.  Those characteristics are typical of German bikes of that time:  They were well-made and often attractive, but utilitarian rather than sportive.

The second bike I saw, parked near PS 1,  clearly belongs to  the "sportive" category.  In fact, it was one of the better racing bikes available in its price range in the early to mid-1970's.  

If I'm not mistaken, it's a Gitane Tour de France from sometime around 1975 to 1978.  I make this judgment based on the paint finish and decals, which look original and are consistent with that time:

Also, the bike is made from Reynolds 531 tubing and has a Stronglight 93 cotterless crank, which was original equipment on that bike (as well as the Peugeot PX-!0E).  It was actually quite nice:  strong, brightly polished and lighter than even Campagnolo's offerings.

 (I apologize for this image and the others; I took them with my cell phone.)

One extremely interesting detail is the way the brake cable "tunnels" are brazed to the top tube:

On most bikes, the "tunnels" are brazed down the center (top) of the top tube.  However, Gitane brazed them to the right side, which allows for a more direct line to the brake (a Campagnolo sidepull).  Of course, the advantage of this would be lost if a brake that pulled on the right side, or a centerpull, were used.

The tunnels lead me to believe this is a later-production Tour de France, as the earlier-production TdFs use the clips you see on so many old racing bikes.

It seems that every time I ride through "Hipster Hook," I see more and more interesting bikes that aren't variations on the "hipster fixie."  And the area is about as rich in bike shops as any I've seen:  Within blocks of Greenpoint Bikes are about a half-dozen other shops, including B's Bikes, which has become one of my favorites.  Greenpoint looks very promising as well.  

Not so long ago, there weren't any bike shops in the area at all:  If you were to ride from Astoria to Brooklyn, you wouldn't see another shop until you got into the neighborhood around Pratt Institute, a distance of about seven miles.  And you wouldn't see very many cyclists. Now it's turning into Amsterdam on the Hudson.  It will be interesting to see what happens when those cyclists--most of whom are in their 20's or 30's age.  Will they stay in the neighborhood and continue to ride the bikes they have?  Or will they stop riding, or move?  Or will some as-yet-unenvisioned  type of bicycle be invented and sweep as-yet-unborn cyclists off their feet (or pedals)?  

Whatever happens, I expect to see more interesting bikes--and cyclists--along the way.

A Childhood Dream In Hipster Hook

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

Hipster Hook Bikes

How do you know you're in Hipster Hook?


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


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


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


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

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

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

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


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

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