The Attack That Deflated Balloon Tires

Seventy-four years ago today, the Japanese Imperial Navy launched a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor.  Well, it was a surprise to most people, but some who were "in the know" saw the United States and Japan edging toward war for months before the attack.

Winston Churchill could barely conceal his glee:  At last the Americans would join his fight against Japan's nominal allies, Germany and Italy.  Never before, and never since, have Americans been so willing to go to war against another country.

It's almost a cliché to say that the attack, and US involvement in the World War, would change almost everything about American society and culture.  As an example, it could be argued that the War had as much of a role as any other event in bringing about the Civil Rights movements of the 1950s and 1960s.  Black American soldiers could sit at any café or pub table in Europe, but were separated from fellow citizens lighter than themselves within their own armed forces, not to mention in schools and other public places in their home towns, cities and states. 

Also, the war turned the wave of blacks migrating from the south to the north into a tidal wave, changing the face of numerous communities all over the United States. Having large numbers of African Americans concentrated in urban neighborhoods would make it easier for leaders to organize marches and other kinds of protests than it had been when the same people were dispersed over miles of southern countryside.  (Remember, this was decades before the Internet and Facebook!)

Now, since this is a bike blog, I have to tell you how the attack on Pearl Harbor--and the War--changed cycling, at least in this country.  At the time, the average adult bicyle weighed 57 pounds (about 26 kilos).  The government decreed that those bikes would be made ten pounds lighter, and that production of children's bicycles would cease altogether for the duration.

The reason for this change was that bicycles were being used in the military, and a lighter bike is easier to transport and maneuver.  Also, it used less of the materials that were rationed during wartime.   Those restrictions, of course, made fewer bicycles available for civilians to buy, but those who were able to get them discovered that they liked the lighter bikes.  Manufacturers took notice and started to make bikes lighter still.

Further accelerating the change in American bicycles were the machines service members saw--and sometimes brought back from--the places in which they fought.  The majority of the bikes to come to our shores came from England, but a few others came from Continental European countries.  Those bikes--yes, even the English three-speed and French "ballon" bikes--were lighter than the "lightweight" models American manufacturers were making during the war.

Could it be that if Pearl Harbor hadn't been attacked, we might still be riding on those balloon-tired Schwinns, Columbias and Huffys?  Hmm....

(Note:  I mean no offense to any of you who still remember--or experienced--the tragedies of that day that "will live on in infamy"!)

 

A Road To Recovery Begins With VetBikes

Here in the US, today is Veterans' Day.

If you have been reading this blog for a while, you might have noticed a seeming contradiction:  although I am anti-war, I have written a number of posts about how bicycles have been used in the military. The real irony is that I have become more interested in such things as my opposition to armed conflict (in 99.9 percent of cases) increases.

As I have said before, studying military history in its truest sense (not what is commonly derided as "drum and bugle history") offers all sorts of lessons into other areas of history--and life. It shows us, very clearly, the sorts of mistakes leaders can make through their own egotism or arrogance, or through pure-and-simple misjudgment or miscalculation.  It also shows us, I believe, human nature in its most naked forms.

Now I'm going to present you with another seeming contradiction about myself:  the more I adopt an anti-war stance, the more pro-veteran I become.

Actually, my explanation for that will probably make sense (I think):  It is because I am opposed to war that I believe anyone who is sent to fight should never want for anything.  It's a disgrace that someone who has put on a uniform and faced danger should be sleeping under a bridge or railroad overpass.  I have seen a few on my way to and from work.   

Thus, I am willing to put in a good word for any organization that might help improve the lives of veterans.  Today, I learned about one such organization.

VetBikes.org is a veteran-run non-profit (501c3) that provides adaptive bicycles to recovering veterans.  VetBikes began in Seattle, but has recently opened a second location in Denver.   

Some of the machines VetBikes has provided were tailored to obvious physical disabilities such as the loss of limbs,  but most look like bikes most of us would ride, with small modifications.  According to VetBikes' website, its mission is to use bicycles, and cycling (mainly of the sport variety), to help veterans cope with their new lives.

To that end, VetBikes takes referrals from social workers, medical doctors and other profssionals for veterans suffering from combat wounds, substance abuse problems, homelessness and even blindness.  However, by far the largest number of referrals is for veterans with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). 




With those realities in mind, VetBikes does not merely lend bikes or have them available for the vets to take out:  It gives each vet a machine.  But  VB's program doesn't stop there:  It also offers mentors, placement in local cycle clubs (to help with community integration), professional mechanical instruction and, according to its mission statement, "an introductory path to a career in the cycling industry". 

The site doesn't mention anything about expanding beyond Washington State and Colorado, but it would not surprise me if someone in the organization has that in mind:  The need certainly doesn't stop at the borders of the Evergreen and Centennial States.  It does, however, say that it can use help, whether as a volunteer, or through donations of cash, bike parts or bikes. 

Mature? Not Yet: Disc Brakes On Bicycles

In the mid-1970s, my high school acquired its first computer.  The father of one of my classmates, who worked in a nearby military base, in one of those jobs he couldn’t talk about, negotiated the purchase.  For $6000, my alma mater got a used machine, about half the size of a classroom—and with about half of the capacity of devices kids carry in their backpacks nowadays.

When I graduated the following year, one of my relatives gave me a new Texas Instruments Model 101 digital wristwatch.  With its red LED display and sleek goldtone band, it seemed like the epitome of elegance and slick high-tech, all rolled up into one.  No one else I knew had such a timepiece:  For the one and only time in my high-school years, I was the coolest kid in the class.  At least, that’s how I felt.

Neither the computer nor my watch made it past my sophomore year of college.  The big box (“It’s just an oversized, overpriced file cabinet!” one parent exclaimed upon learning what it cost) assigned classes like “Sports Heroes” to honors students who signed up for the Shakespeare seminar.  (I know.  I was one of those students.) And that was the least of the computer’s malfunctions. Worst of all, nobody seemed to know how to fix them.

And nobody seemed to know how to fix my watch.  One shop claimed that displays of numbers that had nothing to do with the time of day were a result of “water damage” –only moments after I took that watch out of its box.  (I have since learned that technicians and reps say “water damage” when your electronic device is acting up or not working and  they can’t figure out why.)

Less than a decade after I graduated high school, the Yankees were giving away digital watches (with the team’s logo, of course) as promotional items on Fan Appreciation Day. My graduation gift, in contrast, sold for more (in non-inflation adjusted dollars) than most smartphones or laptops cost today.  And the watches the Yankees gave away were more reliable (water resistant to 100 meters, and shock resistant) than the one I got on Graduation Day.   

I was thinking about the computer and watch as I read an article in the most recent Bicycle Quarterly.

In “Are Disc Brakes Mature Technology? “, Jan Heine recounts his and other BQ editors’ experiences with both mechanical and hydraulic disc brakes on road, mountain and city bikes.  While the brakes on one bike offered the power and modulation of good caliper brakes, their performance was hampered by their incompatibility with the levers that came on the bike.  The brakes on the other bike were not as good as road calipers and, worse, there were a couple of potentially serious failures. 

Heine seems to think that disc brakes have potential, but there are issues that need to be worked out.  Braking power is still determined mainly by the size of the disc.  A larger disc is heavier and could necessitate larger forks—both of which are anathema to racers and other performance-oriented cyclists.  More important, though, is that while larger discs offer more power, they seem to offer less modulation.  From what Heine and others say, it seems that larger rotors give the brakes the “all or nothing” feel that V-brakes (at least the ones I’ve used) always seem to have.

Avid BB7 disc brake on Look X85 cyclo-cross bike

The flip-side is, of course, that smaller rotors offer less power.  And, if there isn’t enough power, whatever modulation the brakes offer is all but irrelevant.

Another problem, as Heine points out, is that on disc brakes, the pad grabs the disc on the rear.  On a front fork, that means the wheel is pulled away from the dropout (or fork end).  When you’re barreling down a hill—or sluicing through traffic—few things are more dangerous than a front wheel popping out of a fork. 

Most modern quick release levers, Heine says, aren’t secure enough for bikes with powerful disc brakes.   Through-axles, like the ones found on downhill bikes, might be a solution.  But even with them, the fork blades on most non-suspension (telescoping) forks wouldn’t be stiff enough to counter the forces the brakes would put on them.  So, Heine says, a dedicated suspension fork might be the best kind to use with disc brakes.

 (In contrast, rim brakes pull the wheel slightly upward, into the dropout.  And their forces are concentrated in or near the stiffest and strongest part of the fork:  the crown.  That is the reason why properly-installed wheels don’t fall out of forks equipped with rim brakes or no brakes.)

I myself don’t plan to start using disc brakes any time soon:  I have never had trouble getting the braking power and modulation I need from rim brakes, as long as I use good cables and pads and keep everything properly adjusted.  Plus, there is something to be said for the simplicity, not to mention the lighter weight, of such brakes.  So, I hope that disc brakes don’t become the only option on new bikes or that component manufacturers stop making rim brakes and parts.

On the other hand, I am not against some bikes coming with disc brakes, or for such brakes to be offered on bikes where they might make sense.  Most of all, I hope they don’t become a de facto standard—or the only option—before they are a “mature” technology.  At least, when my digital watch failed, I still had the mechanical watch another relative gave me for a birthday—my 12^th or 13^th, if I remember correctly.  And plenty of others were available. 

You, Too, Can Ride An Air Donkey

A week and a half ago, I gave some examples of oxymorons.  As I mentioned in that post, some people would argue that "carbon fiber Brooks saddle" is one.

How about "Air Donkey"?

No, it's not a no-frills airline.  (Please click the link:  the clip is precious!)  Nor is it a cheaper version of a sneaker teenaged boys of all ages (and genders!) wait hours on line and spend whole paychecks to get.  And it's not a game in which people deemed to unstable for military service or the police department work out their aggressions.

Rather, Air Donkey might be described if you created a bike rental service by crossing Uber with Airbnb.



An bicycle outfitted for Air Donkey

At least, that seems to be the vision of Erdem Ovacik, who recently co-founded the Copenhagen (where else?)-based startup which has just opened a Kickstarter appeal to fund their project. 

Essentially, Air Donkey would involve people renting out their bicycles by the day or week to tourists, commuters or whoever else is looking to get around the city on two wheels.  The firm behind Air Donkey--Donkey Republic--says the system has been tested around Copenhagen and is ready to go.



The Air Donkey starter kit.

Members will purchase a starter kit that includes a special rear-wheel lock that can be released with a phone app (and can go 500 days between charges), stickers to mark the bike and a listing on the company's website, which keeps track of available bikes via the locks. 


Users simply have to find a bike, pay the rental fee and use the app to unlock the bike.  Air Donkey recommends a rental fee of 10 Euros a day; it's estimated that the one-time cost of the starter kit will be 80 Euros.  Thus, it shouldn't take long for a member to recoup his or her outlay.



The Air Donkey lock

It all sounds good. However, being the cynical (!) New Yorker I am, I found a problem: the lock. It only allows the bike to be locked to itself or tethered to an immobile object with the attached cable.  The "leash" on the lock is flimsy, especially for a bike that's supposed to be parked on the street so that would-be renters can easily access it. Crooks who aren't particularly enterprising have broken much thicker and stronger cables, chains and locks. Also, I have to think that if thieves found ways to steal Citibikes from their ports, they wouldn't have much difficulty in stealing an Air Donkey bike without cutting the "leash" or even breaking the lock.

On the other hand, as Ovacik points out, the system is intended for everyday, utilitarian machines--the kind people typically have in their basements and storage rooms--not fancy racing bikes.  The bikes people would rent are more likely to have baskets or child seats than heart rate monitors.  Hence the "Donkey" in the name.

Even so, Air Donkey would make a greater variety of bikes available than any municipal bike-sharing system like Citibike could.  A bike shop could rent out, say, a Dutch-style city bike, a three-speed, a low-level mountain bike and other kinds of machines in the Air Donkey system.  And, many riders could find and return bikes in and to more convenient locations, particularly areas of cities where bike-share ports are difficult or impossible to find. 

Whatever its flaws or drawbacks, I hope that the program succeeds and, as Ovacik plans, it's expanded to other cities in Europe and beyond.  Anything that can get more bikes on, and more cars off, city streets is a good thing!




 

Shin's Tricycle

On this blog, I have written several posts about bicycles, and the ways they have been used, in war.  It may surprise you to learn that the reason why I am interested in such things--and in military history, with an emphasis on the history--is that I am anti-war.  In fact, I believe that the only chance the human race has of surviving-- let alone becoming a better, more enlightened species--is to render war obsolete.  Only then will we be truly able to address issues of environmental degradation and economic injustice.

That last sentence also explains why I am anti-war and pro-veteran:  To me, few things show how pointless war is than seeing a veteran sleeping under a bridge, highway overpass or train trestle, as I sometimes see on my way to work. It also explains why I see bicycling to work and school, and even for recreation --and not as a self-conscious fashion statement or a callow attempt at irony (Can it really be irony if you're trying to achieve it?)--as an instrument for attaining peace and justice.

So, in that spirit, I am posting this photograph:

Why?, you ask.  Well, on this date 70 years ago, a boy named Shin and his best friend, a girl named Kimi, were playing with it when--to paraphrase Albert Camus in The Plague--death rained on them from the clear blue sky. 

When Shin's family found him under a house beam, he was too weak to talk.  But his hand still held the red grip of that tricycle.  And Kimi was nowhere to be found.

Shin would not survive that night.  Nor would Kimi, who was found later.   Shin's father could not bear to leave him in a lonely graveyard, so he was interred--along with Kimi and the tricycle--in the family's backyard.

In 1985--forty years after the first atomic bomb leveled their home town of Hiroshima--his father decided to move his remains to the family's gravesite.  He, with the help of his wife, dug up the backyard burial ground.   There they found "the little white bones of Kimi and Shin, hand in hand as we had placed them," according to the father.

Also present was the tricycle, which the father had all but forgotten.  Lifting it out of the grave, he said, "This should never happen to children.  The world should be a peaceful place where children can play and laugh."

The next day, he would donate the tricycle to the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, where it is exhibited with other artifacts, as well as drawings, photos and stories from survivors of the first atomic bomb, exploded over the city 70 years ago today.

The tricycle inspired a children's book written by survivor Tatsuharu Kodama.  Published in 1995, Shin's Tricycle is narrated by Nobuo Tetsunani, Shin's father.  It's as painful as it is beautiful.  I urge you to read it--and to take a good look at those stark drawings!  
 

When Does "Parked" Turn Into "Abandoned"?

Whenever I see a bike locked in the same place for a long time, I wonder:  Did its owner suddenly have to attend to some urgent matter in some far-off place? (One commonly finds bikes locked up in and around military bases for months, even years, under such circumstances.)  Did he or she fall ill or get hurt?  Or did he or she simply abandon—or forget—the bike?

I’m not thinking, now, about those bikes that are parked in the same spot every day while their owners are at work, in school or performing some other daily ritual.  Even if the bike is locked to the same signpost, parking meter, fence or rack every day, you can see signs, however slight, of its having been moved.  Also, you can tell that the bike has been ridden, whether because of dirt, scrapes, fading or just the normal wear one sees on tires and other bike parts.

Rather, I am thinking about those bikes that have moved no more than the Pyramids have since they were parked (all right, built) in Egypt.  You can tell that they haven’t been unlocked, ridden and returned:  Everything on them looks the same, day after day, until—if the bike is left long enough—parts start to rust and paint starts to fade.  I’m thinking now of bikes that were parked outside the Cooper Square post office so long that locals joked the decaying skeletons of steel and carcasses of rotting rubber were part of the building’s design.

The Cannondale in the photo has been parked around the corner from my place for a couple of weeks, at least.  It looks just as you see it:  It stands in the same position, and it’s had its seat and seatpost missing all of that time.  I assume—or, at least, hope—the bike’s owner took them off after locking up the bike.  I hope someone else didn’t take them off:  It’s not fun to come out and find your seat missing even if that’s not quite as bad as finding your bike missing.

Since it’s a modern bike==a fairly-late-model (I say this because it was made in the USA.) Cannondale—I can safely assume that the bottom bracket is a sealed cartridge.  Even if it weren’t, there would probably be an “accordion” sleeve between the bottom bracket cups to shield the axle and bearings.

But protection doesn’t last forever.  Neither does lubrication.  But the results of either failing do.  (Remember:  I’m talking about bicycles here, oh you of dirty mind!)  Of course, the bike would have to be parked for a long time for the seals or shields, and the grease, to break down.  We had heavy, flooding rains on Sunday and Monday, and on-and-off rain ever since.  So, even if the bottom bracket isn’t affected, you have to wonder whether the rest of the frame would be affected.  

The Cannondale is made of aluminum, so it won’t rust. But that metal oxidizes and corrodes.  Perhaps those of you who are more knowledgeable than I am about metallurgy can tell whether or not there is a point at which aluminum will start to deteriorate from corrosion the way iron or steel does from rust.

Anyway, I’m sure that sooner or later the bike’s owner will come for it.  Something interesting has happened, though, in the last few days:  another bike in exactly the same color has been locked next to it.   Was that Trek recognize the Cannondale’s dark blue color the way leopards supposedly recognize each other by their spots?

Other Decorations Can't Hold A Candle To This!

I know that during the four-plus years I've been writing this blog, I've written a few Christmas-themed posts.  I have shown bicycles used as props for Christmas lights and other decorations and, a couple of days ago, an ugly Christmas sweater with cycling reindeer.  A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a diatribe against buying your kids (or the kids in your life) department-store bikes for Christmas.

Now, I'm assuming that some of you, my dear readers, are Jewish--or, at least observe Hanukkah in some fashion. I haven't forgotten about you.  How could I, after coming across this?:

This, and other menorahs, can be found here.

Hanukkah, of course, commemorates the victory of an army of Jewish Maccabees over a Greek occupying force that vastly outnumbered them.  The Maccabees thought they had enough oil to last only for one night, but their menorah burned for eight days and nights.

Given the role that bicycles have played in the military, it's hard not to wonder how things might have turned out if one side or the other had bicycles. For that matter, would Moses have had to spend forty years wandering the desert if he had two wheels and two pedals?

All right:  I'll stop before I start offending anyone's religious senibilities (if I haven't already done that).  Happy Hanukkah!

Neither Rain Nor Snow Nor The Gloom Of Night Stops These Bikes

The James Farley Post Office, known to New Yorkers as "The Main Post Office" often has some interesting exhibits--including one that's there now.

It's said to be a postal delivery bicycle from the 1940s. From the looks of it, the date sounds about right.

I couldn't find any markings to identify where, or by what company, it might have been made.  Some features, such as the seat lug and cluster and the rod brakes, mark it as an English bike from that time.  Probably the only American bike builder that made frames with lugged joints was Schwinn, and that was only on its top-of-the-line Paramounts.  Also, the Paramount might have been the only American bike built with cottered cranks, as cotterless cranks were still new, rare and expensive.   And, to my knowledge, no American (and, for that matter few, if any, non-British) bikes had rod brakes.

It would be interesting, to say the least, to know that the bike was made elsewhere, as it was all but unheard-of for the US Government or military in that era to have its supplies made for them overseas.

Here is something else that marks the bike as British or otherwise non-American:

The stand, when kicked back, would snap into the curved piece of metal protruding from the rear fender.  Probably no kickstand would be strong or stable enough to hold up the amount of weight held in the front basket:

Speaking of which:  That basket, combined with the small front wheel, make for some of the strangest proportions I've seen on a bike. But it makes sense, as such a small front wheel is probably the only thing that makes the bike maneuverable with as much weight carried in the position it would have been carried in that basket.

Many of us in the US don't realize that in many countries--including Denmark, the Netherlands, France and New Zealand--significant amounts of mail are still delivered by men and women pedaling two wheels.  The practice seems to have begun in those countries, as well as in the US and UK, during the 1890s.  It declined in the US after World War I, as highways and motorized vehicles became more common, and routes became longer.  However, bicycle deliveries enjoyed a resurgence during the 1930s and World War II, when gasoline and other commodities were rationed.   Then it fell off again during the 1950s and today seems to be limited three American municipalities:  Sun City in Arizona and the Florida communities of St. Petersburg and Miami Beach.

Since the USPS, like other government agencies, has been ordered to "go green", I wonder whether  hope that we will see more mail carriers on bikes.   The three cities I've mentioned have warm year-round weather and are flat; there are other such places in the US.  Also, in traffic-choked urban centers, bicycles can be faster and more efficient than cars.  (It is in such centers that much of Europe's postal bike fleets and personnel are deployed.)  Perhaps we're looking at a new career opportunity for hipsters and their fixies!

A Two-Wheeled Salute To Veterans

If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I've written a number of posts on how bicycles have been used in the military.

Mind you, I'm not a war buff.  But I do find military history--as history--to be very interesting on many levels.  And, even though I hope that the human race will one day decide that war is obsolete, I think this nation (and all others) should give veterans the respect they deserve and the care they need.

Many of those veterans have used bicycles on and off-duty. So, today I thought I'd share a couple of photos the SF Gate published as part of their tribute to veterans three years ago.

Here, Pfc Horace Boykin rides a "captured" bicycle as he and his Marine comerades (l-to-r) Corporal Willis T. Anthony, Pfc Emmit Shackelford and Pfc Eugene Purdy take time out from supplying the front line in Saipan in 1944.

A year later, we see Seaman Paul Gray riding a Japanese bicycle in Tokyo.  A victory lap, perhaps?


I wonder whether any of those guys are still around.  

Fighting The Great War On Two Wheels

As you no doubt learned in your history classes, the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the presumptive heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, triggered the events that led to World War I.

He was killed on 28 June 1914.  Other countries made promises and issued ultimatums to each other, based on the sorts of relationships they had with the Austro-Hungarian Empire and its allies--or enemies.  

Everything came to a head in the first days of August in that year.  On the first, Germany declared war on Russia.  And, on this date 100 years ago, Germany declared war on France and invaded Belgium.  Then, on the following day, Great Britain declared war on Germany.

 

The Great War, as it came to be called, was the first international armed conflict in which aircraft--and one of the first in which motorized vehicles--were deployed. Bicycle battalions were also deployed in an attempt to mobilize fighting forces that could move more swiftly than regular infantry units.  Aircraft were invented barely a decade earlier, and motorized vehicles weren't around for much longer.  So they didn't have the range or maneuverability later versions of those vehicles would have.  Also, a single plane, motorcar or tank would need several soldiers to operate and maintain it, and at least one more to scout out and shoot (or bomb or gas) enemy combatants.

 

On the other hand, on a bicycle, a single soldier or other individual person could travel as a self-contained one-man fighting unit, as Hilary Searle of CycleSeven points out.  For example, members of the British Army Cyclist Corps were issued bicycles that held kit bags in the rear, under the seat.  Rations and personal items were stowed in those bags; from the frame's top crossbar hung an emergency toolkit.  Groundsheets were rolled up and suspended from the handlebars; even rifles could be carried on soldiers' bikes.

Members of the Army Cyclist Corps were specially trained as mechanics.  Hmm...I wonder what my life would be like if I'd learned how to fix in the Army rather than from the first edition of Anybody's Bike Book. 

As Ms. Searle points out, His Majesty's Army had to draw up regulations for using the bicycle, not only in the battlefield, but in drilling and ceremonial occasions.  The rulebook, first drawn up in 1907 and revised in 1911, contains such pearls as this:


'A cyclist standing with his cycle, with rifle attached to it, will salute with the right hand, as laid down in Section 19, returning the hand to the point of the saddle on the completion of the salute. When at ease, a cyclist, whether mounted or leading his bicycle, will salute by coming to attention, and turning his head to the officer he salutes. A party of cyclists on the march will salute on the command Eyes Right, which will be followed by Eyes Front, from the officer or NCO in charge.'


I would've loved for the cadet commanders to teach us that in our ROTC program!  Better yet, this:

'The position of the cyclist at attention is the same as that of the dismounted soldier, except that he will grasp the left steering handle with his left hand, and place the right hand at the point of the saddle, elbow to the rear.'

All right.  I'll stop being snide and cynical long enough to show that, every once in a while, the term "military intelligence" is not an oxymoron:

'Bicycle tyres should be wiped with a damp cloth after a march, so that all grit, which if left might cause a puncture, may be removed.'

'The rate of marching, excluding halts, will generally vary from 8 to 10 miles per hour, according to the weather, the nature of the country, and the state of the roads. A column of battalion size should not be expected to cover more than 50 miles in a day under favourable conditions.'

"Favourable conditions"?  In World War I?  Did such things exist? Some terrain on the Western Front proved too much even for cyclists (as tough a bunch as we are), as the heavy iron bikes got bogged down in mud or simply were unrideable on rough terrain.  (They were fine on tarmac.) For that reason, the military brass decided that cyclists had little tactical value and disbanded the Corps after the War.

 

A Straightforward Oxymoron?

The first time you saw or heard the word "oxymoron", what did you think?

Perhaps it's indicative of the time in my life when I learned it that I thought about a stupid kid with zits.  Back then, a product for treating acne that had "Oxy" in its name had recently been introduced.  Is that product still being made?

Anyway, being the sort of person who remembers examples better than abstract definitions, whenever I heard the word "oxymoron", I would think of "military intelligence", "dietetic candy", "authentic reproduction" and "business ethics".  Oh, and there was a sign I saw in a supermarket:  "Fresh frozen jumbo baby shrimp."

Here's another one to add to the list:  a riderless bicycle.   

From Wired.com

Now, such a thing may be plausible, at least in an etymological or epistemological sense.  (I teach college. I have to use words like those at least once a year.  There, I got it over with!)  After all, a bicycle is nothing more than a vehicle with two wheels.  So, I suppose, one could have a bicycle without a rider.  Of course, I have to ask:  Why?

Well, someone seems to have a reason:  research.  Yes, you can get away with inventing practically anything for research purposes. But I think this project may have practical applications:  The riderless bicycle's creators are trying to learn more about gyroscopic forces and what keeps wheeled vehicles stable.

Maybe one day, if I have money to burn, I'll buy one of those bicycles for someone whom I tried, and failed, to turn into a cyclist!