If I count the miles I pedaled going to and from yesterday's ride, I did about 45 miles all together--on Tosca, my fixie.
Of course, I've cycled many more miles than that in one ride. However, it's been a while since I've ridden that many miles on a fixed gear.
Today I rode only a few miles, albeit on a fixed gear. Notice I said "a fixed gear" as opposed to "my fixie." A few months ago, I fitted a fixed gear to Marianela. However, I don't think of it as a fixie: I think of it as my commuter/utility bike, which I just happen to be riding with a fixed gear.
I think the difference in the way I think about each of them has to do with the fact that Tosca is a bike that's made to be used with fixed gears, while Marianela started life as a late '70's ten-speed bike.
Anyway, Marianela seems to have this thing for sunsets. So after a brief late day ride, I found myself having a picnic in Astoria Park. The food consisted of a hero sandwich from Sal, Kris and Charlie's of Astoria. It's one of those old-school Italian-American sandwich shops that seemed to be everywhere in the NY Metro area when I was growing up. You probably wouldn't want to go there if you are a vegetarian. I might become one, some day. But not tonight. I ordered something called "The Bomb." (I mean, how could I not, with a name like that!) Let me tell you, it was worth every damn calorie, gram of sodium and whatever of cholestrol I downed. I didn't order it with mustard or mayo, but I did get oil and vinegar, which were perfect on this sandwich!
I almost feel guilty for not having shared, even if these people were enjoying each other's company:
After eating that sandwich, I probably could have attached a chain to my bike and pulled this train into the sunset all by myself:
The light inside that train alone would be worth the ride. Heck, I wouldn't even mind being inside the windows of that building underneath the trestle, even if it is a water treatment plant. But I got the best view of all--after riding my bike.
Today I went for another ride with my new riding partner. We got out later than we'd originally planned because she was summoned, at the last moment, to a second interview for a job that she really wants.
As we did on our previous ride, we met at a little park with a big statue that stands almost exactly halfway between my place and hers. And the clouds that covered the sky grew darker and thickened. Times like that remind me of at least one of the reasons I cycle: Somehow I manage, in such situations, to believe that the rain will hold off long enough for me to do my ride. Or, sometimes I like to "play chicken with the rain," as if I could dare it. Some of the rides I've enjoyed most are the ones in which I "held off" the rain long enough to finish my ride, and the first drops fell just after I got home--or just before.
There have been times in my life in which those rides were the only occasions in which I could muster up any sort of optimism, much less the defiant kind that motivates me to "play chicken with the rain."
Today we did get caught in the rain. As a matter of fact, we got soaked by a sudden downpour. As it was a warm day, I didn't mind; in fact, I rather like getting rained on during a summer ride. On the other hand, she doesn't care much for riding in the rain, although she didn't complain.
But we both agree that we're willing to take a chance on a heavily overcast day when there's a possibility of precipitation, although neither of us wants to start a ride in the rain. I've ridden with people who went out and rode no matter the conditions, and with others (including a ride leader in a club to which I belonged) who literally wouldn't ride if there was a single cloud in the sky or the temperature was below 40 degrees F.
How do you feel about riding in the rain? Are you one of those riders who will go out even when an old guy with a long beard is gathering animals into a boat? Or are you a rider who won't ride if there's even the slightest possiblity of rain? (If you are, what are you doing in the Northeast or Northwest?) Or are you like me: willing to chance that "stray" shower or the passing storm?
Today I saw a listing for a Frejus bicycle that was made in "Torino, France."
I wrote to whoever listed the bike to correct his/her geography: Torino--known in the English-speaking world as Turin-- is, of course, in Italy.
One of the ironies of that listing is that the town of Frejus is actually located in France. Granted, it's not far from Italy and was, at different times in history, ruled not only by Italy, but also by several Italian city-states as well as the King of Sardinia and the Dukes of Savoie (Savoy).
And it was part of the Roman Empire. That is evident in the ampitheatre in middle of the town. In fact, when I was there, I recall reading something (a brochure? a plaque? a book, maybe?) that said it is the oldest surviving Roman ampitheatre, not to mention one of the oldest surviving structures, in France. There are also the remains of an acqueduct as well as a number of other Roman structures.
Perhaps they built chariots back then. However, nothing that I've read in French, English or Italian indicates that any bicycle, or even any part for one, was ever produced there, though--it being in the south of France, after all--quite a few people ride bikes for recreation as well as transportation. Well, at least they were when I was there.
Even if we never rode or owned one, Frejus bicycles are special to cyclists of my generation or the one immediately before us. As Sheldon Brown points out on his page, they were often ridden by the few active racers in the US during the Dark Ages of the sport in this country. And it was one of the bikes of choice for relatively well-heeled enthusiasts in the early days of the Bike Boom.
Accounts vary as to their ride qualities. And, as pretty as many of them were, the workmanship was actually pretty mediocre, even on their best Campagnolo-equipped models. But, for many of us, they defined what an Italian racing bike was.
They were imported and sold by Tom Avenia, who was also one of the first importers of Campagnolo equipment. I met him when he was a very, very old man. (He lived to be about 95, if I'm not mistaken.) Frail as he was, he still rode and could tell stories about the Six Day Races in Madison Square Garden during the 1930's (which would be the last most Americans would hear of bicycle racing for about another half-century) as well as his own participation in such races as the Somerville Classic. I could see how the man all but singlehandedly kept the torch burning, or at least flickering, on his zeal alone.
And he rode a Frejus track bike, equipped with a front brake, nearly to the end of his life.
And, yes, he reminded me that Frejus is actually a town in France, even though the bikes were made in Italy--of Reynolds 531 tubing.
Have you ever come to the end of a workday feeling as if you'd carried the weight of the world on your shoulders?
Well, all right, I didn't today. And, truth be told, I never identified much with Atlas, even in my weight-lifting days. I'd say that I identified more with Tiresias, though I could do without the blindness.
Anyway, carrying the world on one's shoulders doesn't grab my fancy. But suspending (or dangling) it on strings is fascinating (and pretty sexy, if you ask me). I think the people who design suspension bridges, and built certain kinds of boats, understood that:
I saw that "bridge" as I cycled through the World's Fair grounds on my way home. Could they really be holding up those trees?
Some kids think God works that way. (At least, some of the kids I worked with twenty years ago thought so.) And, I would suspect, more than a few adults think something like that, too, though in a less benevolent way than the kids see it.
So what were those strings supporting? Well, I don't know whether they were actually supporting it, but they are attached to the skating rink in Flushing Meadow Park. The rink is at one end of the park, which is probably as big as Manhattan's Central or Brooklyn's Prospect parks. At the other end of the park is the Kissena Velodrome.
OK, there's my "string" to cycling. I now feel I've rationalized the fact that this is in a cycling blog. That's a huge weight off my shoulders!
Today I'm going to tell you about one of the DIY projects I did over the past rainy weekend.
Since September, Marianela, my old LeTour III, has sported a Gyes Parkside saddle. On the whole, I've been happy with it, and given that Brooks prices are rising again, it's a good value.
It's very similar to the Brooks B-66 and -67 saddles: The dimensions and shape of the leather top are similar, and so are the coiled springs. Another feature it shares with their English forebears is its bag loops:
They are almost triangular-shaped, with rectangular cutouts for bag straps. The bag loops on the sportier Brooks and Gyes models are more slit-like. Also, the bag loops on B-17s, Swallows and the Gyes models inspired by them are integral with the carriage plate that's riveted to the rear of the leather top. However, on the Parkside the bag loops are inserted between the top plate and the springs, and everything is bolted together. I believe the B-66, B-67 and Champion Flyer have the same, or at least a similar arrangement.
I decided that I want to start using one of my Carradice saddlebags--a Nelson Longflap--for commuting. It can hold lots of papers and books and a layer of clothing, not to mention my lunch--and still have room to spare. Also, I'd like to use it if I ever start to carry a laptop with me to work because there's plenty of room for it with a sleeve, and even more protection. Plus, I trust the quality and construction of the Nelson more than most bags of any type on the market.
(I'm sure the Zimbales are excellent bags, as Velouria and other bloggers have said. But Carradice can still be had for considerably less if you order from Wiggle in England. And, I've read good things about Acorn bags, but they're next to impossible to buy.)
But, as much as I love Carradice bags, I found their mounting system troublesome, at least for a commuter bike that's parked outside for long periods of time in a marginal neighborhood (where my main job is). Peter White--and Carradice, I believe--recommend looping the attachment straps so that they buckle inside the bag. That makes for a more stable and secure mount, as it allows the top of the bag to sit neaerly flush with the bag loops. But it doesn't make for easy dismounting.
So what did I do? Well, I unbolted the springs and bag loops from the rear plate on the Gyes. And I substituted keyring clamps for the loops:
Notice the tabs at the top of those clamps. I push them toward the saddle, which opens them. And when I let go, they close very securely:
I simply looped the regular mounting straps a couple of times through rectangular coupler links. I screwed down the clamps very tightly after treating the treads with blue Loctite. (I gave the undercarriage bolts the same treatment.)
And, instead of attaching the bottom of the bag to the seatpost with the provided strap, I looped an old toestrap onto the bag and around the front of the rear rack:
I'm still thinking of other ways to make that connection quick-release. I didn't want to use a clamp like the ones I used on the saddle because I thought the bag could sway too much with the bag mounted on such a small point. Looping the strap around the front of the rack makes it much more stabe. Plus, toe straps have a roller and clamp that can be adjusted--or allow the strap to be removed--quickly. I think it will work well: Today I was surprised at how quickly I could mount and dismount the bag. And it remained remarkably stable as poor Marianela got bounced over some stretches of streets that were more like the Ho Chi Minh trail.
Oh, one more thing: I figured out a way to attach a shoulder strap so I could carry the Nelson off my bike:
All of the Carradice bags I've seen--as well as a number of similar bags--have leather tabs like the one you see in the photo. They're usually at or near the top of the bag, on the corners. I got two heavy-duty keyrings from a local hardware store and looped them onto those tabs. Those rings allowed me to clip a padded shoulder strap from EMS onto the bag.
If you want to do something like this with a B-17, you could probably attach those clamps to the seat bag loops with hose clamps. Or you could attach those clamps to the rails of a saddle that doesn't have bag loops.
In a few weeks or months, I'll write a follow-up to let you know how this system is holding up.
