For many people, a quintessential childhood memory is one of finding a bicycle under the Christmas tree. One generation dreamed of a shiny Schwinn balloon-tired bikes; the next yearned for three-speed "English racers." Then there were those who lusted after slick-tired "Choppers" or "low-riders" or cruisers with sweeping curves--and, later, ten-speeds, which seemed as fast and exotic as sports cars.
If you've ever found a bicycle under the tree on Christmas morning, you know that nothing--not even getting that custom frame you'd been dreaming about--is ever quite as exciting. Perhaps things are different for the current generation, but for mine, and those that came earlier, a new bike was the ne plus ultra of rewards Santa (a.k.a., Mom, Dad or other adult) bestowed upon you for being a good little boy or good little girl. Not that I was ever either one... ;-] In fact, as an adult, I was once given a bike for Christmas for being naughty, if you know what I mean!
So, dear readers: I'd love to hear about the bikes you got, or gave, for the holidays.
They say it's bad luck when a black cat crosses your path. How does that affect you if you learn that as a kid? Well, I guess it could really screw up your race relations, or leave you with a pile of therapists' bills. The latter is a common consequence of being inculcated with just about any superstition.
For the record, I've paid all of my therapists' bills. That is not to be confused with paying your dues, if for no other reason that if you think you've paid your dues, you haven't. At least you know whether or not you've paid your therapists' bills. Trust me: I know from whence I speak!
Now I've really digressed. To get back to the subject of this post...which was? Oh, right, a black cat crossing your path. Well, one didn't cross my path today. However, this one crossed in front of me when I was riding on Randall's Island:
She's feral, so she doesn't stand still for very long. However, she did pause from her prowlings when I stopped. She tiptoed to within a few feet of me, gazed into my eyes and, perhaps realizing that I hadn't brought anything for her to eat, took off.
There's been some material written about how to deal with stray dogs when you're on your bike. But I have yet to see anything that deals with the subject of stray cats encountered when cycling.
I recall now the time I was pedaling up a narrow mountain road near Briancon, France. The surface and the sides looked sunbaked, even though the day was overcast. I'd just made one of those turns from which rocks tumble off the edge of the road when I heard--meowing? Here?, I wondered. There were no other animals and no vegetables, or so it seemed. Well, at least I knew that my soon-to-be new friend (who seemed to be a Chartreuse cat) didn't get skinny from smoking cigarettes and drinking black coffee.
I didn't have any cat food with me. However, I did have some butter cookies in my handlebar bag. I broke up a few and they seemed to end up in her mouth almost as soon as they passed through my hands.
From there, I cycled into Italy. Ironically, on the way back, I rode down the same road and the same cat crossed my path.
As hard as her life must have been, at least she had a wonderful view. So did the cat who came my way today:
Some black bike parts are said to have a "stealth" look. I suppose that on a black bike, they would "fly under the radar." And, if enough people are riding black bikes, I suppose that those "stealth" bikes and parts could go unnoticed.
But what if the world were lit by magenta neon? Seeing the old Rudge-Whitorth in that light in Flushing made me think of this: That bike, which was black, certainly didn't look "stealth." That's not to say I didn't like its looks: It had a nice patina on it, and there's something classy about some of those old three-speeds. But if one wanted to make it less visible, what would one do?
Would these be "stealth" in the light I saw last night?
Tonight, on my way home, I stopped in Flushing for a bite to eat. Now, I've never been to Hong Kong, but Flushing is what I imagine Hong Kong would be like if it were transported to Queens. Or, perhaps, with its ubiquitous neon, it could be seen as an Asian version of Times Square.
I wonder whether the makers of this Rudge-Whitworth ever imagined it in magenta neon light. In some odd way, bike and light are not incongruous, at least to me.
One particularly interesting feature of this bike is its chainring cutout pattern:
Is the hand halting or waving? Whatever it's doing, it looks good doing it on this bike.
I'm guessing that the bike is from the 1940's or 1950's. At that time there were dozens, if not hundreds, of bicycle manufacturers who made what we now think of as classic English 3-speeds. (Many of those companies, including Rudge, were bought by Raleigh during the 1950's.) While, at first glance, they seemed almost the same, each model had its own particular set of details that set it apart. An example is in the chainwheel you saw in the above photo. Many other British makers used chainwheels with interesting and sometimes whimsical patterns cut into them. The Raliegh three-speed I rode last year had a heron--Raleigh, which of course was Raleigh's corporate symbol.
I've seen other chainrings cut out in interesting patterns. Here's one of my favorites:
It's on an AJ Warrant bike from Austria. Although there's no earthly reason to use a cottered crankset today, I wouldn't mind having the one in the photo.
Last night my commute took me through the great wilderness of the Land of Overdecorated Houses.
Even after so many years of cycling, I still can't get over how much brighter and gaudier those lights and combinations of green, red, gold, silver tinfoil seem when you don't have two feet of glass and two tons of metal between you and them. And the cold, clear night made them glint and glare all the more, or so it seemed.
We're supposed to have more of this bonechilling clarity through the next week. I hear even Santa's reindeer don't want to come out in this weather. Hmm...I wonder...How would the world be a different place if Santa and his helpers rode bicycles instead of sleighs pulled by reindeer.
