Under A Clear Blue Sky

Today I took Arielle on one of our favorite rides:  to Point Lookout.  Although the temperature topped 90 F, it was quite a nice day for cycling:  The sky was almost preternaturally clear, which meant that the humidity was fairly low.  And, along the stretch from Rockaway Beach to Point Lookout, I was pedalling into the light wind/strong breeze.  That meant, of course. that it blew me back on the ride home.

I am not boasting when I tell you I took that photo.  It's not a postcard or an illustration; you get an idea of what kind of a day it was if someone with my photographic skills (or lack thereof) can take such a photo.


Of course, there has to be something to complicate a perfect day:

Can't you just hear the theme from Jaws" in the background?

Those guys have no idea of the fate that awaits them!


Actually, they were fine.  But you can see, from this photo, the sandbar that, just a bit later, came to the surface, as it does when the tide goes out.


Tomorrow I will probably do a short ride, or errand rides, as I am going to Prague the day after.  Somehow today's ride seemed like a perfect sand-off, and a perfect follow-up to the ride I did with Lakythia yesterday.  Yes, life is good.

Letting Sleeping Dogs And German Bikes Lie By The Sea

What's that about letting sleeping dogs lie?

They are under...a broomstick, a couple of trees and a clear blue sky.  Seriously, they are under the care of a couple of park rangers at the old Fort TIlden site, which is part of the Gateway National Recreation Area.


Lakythia and I rode there, among other places, along the ocean.  I can tell already that she's a real friend:  At Rockaway Beach, she saw me in a bathing suit and didn't flinch.  As this is a family publication (ha, ha), I won't post a photo of that, or of me when I was soaking wet.  However, I will post a photo of her.  She's absolutely radiant, just having returned from two weeks of voyaging along the Italian coast.  

At Rockaway Beach, we feasted on the round loaf of whole wheat bread I bought in Parisi's Bakery, a mozzerella and tomato salad I brought and a tortellini salad she brought.   Now, just because my last name is Valinotti, I don't want you to read any bias into what I'm going to say next:  You really can measure the level of civilization of any nation by the amount of olive oil and garlic it uses in its national cuisine. ;-)

All right, there are other things that determine how civilized a society is, such as the transport bikes (or lack thereof).  This one, as best I can tell, is either German or Dutch.  The few inscriptions on it were in what looked like German.  I tried to photograph them, but none of the inscriptions are legible in the photos.


However, I thought the headlight was attached in an interesting place, in an interesting way:

I don't think this bike had a hub generator.  Rather, it seems to have had a bottle-type generator mounted to the front fork.  There was a brazed-on tab for one, and it looked as if the generator had been mounted at some point.  Was it stolen?  Or was it removed for a repair?


I was curious to know more about the bike.  But sometimes I guess it is better to let sleeping dogs lie.

Anticipation: Cycling in Prague

In four more days, I'm leaving for Prague.  As you might imagine, I've been reading what I can about cycling the city.  And the comments on everything--from facilities to guided tours to cycling itself--are very mixed.  I guess that's not surprising, given what a metropolis Prague is.


One interesting insight offered by the Lonely Planet guide is that while cycling is becoming more popular, and the city is building bike lanes and doing other things to make cycling more popular and safer, and viable for commuting, things are nowhere near as good as they are in Vienna and some of the German, Dutch and Scandinavian cities.  Part of the reason for that, the LP editors say, is that while the central city is flat, it is surrounded by hills, which makes commuting from the outskirts less enticing for most people.  Also, they say, the lanes don't yet form a unified system that the lanes in other European cities are.   


Of course, comments like those aren't going to stop me.  Whatever they have in Prague, it must be better than just about any American city--and many European cities--had twenty or thirty years ago.  One thing that sounds familiar is the warning LP and a few other sources give:  Czech drivers are anti-cyclist.  As if they aren't in other places!


What I have decided is that I'm going to rent a bike.  If I were going to be away for longer, or if I were going on a tour or a cycle-camping trip, I'd want to bring one of my own bikes.  But, as a general rule, I like to travel as light as possible and, in these days of "security" measures and airline policies that seem increasingly capricious, I want to make everything as simple as possible.  For example, whenever I go to see my parents in Florida, I take only a carry-on bag with me, even if I'm going for ten days, as I did during the most recent Christmas season.


I still haven't decided, though, whether to take a guided bicycle tour. I might take one for my first ride there, as I've never been in Prague before and know only a few basic phrases in Czech and German.  (I once knew some more German, but it has all but disappeared from disuse.  On the other hand, I have had numerous occasions to use my French and Spanish.)  However, the reviews I've read of read of various guided tours are even more mixed than what I've read about cycling generally in Prague.  


I'm sure, though, that cycling there will be interesting.  How could it not be if people park bikes in places like this?:

Mixte-O-Mania

Miss Mercian II is almost there.  Today, Hal at Bicycle Habitat installed a new headset for me.  I'd hoped to get it in silver or gold.  However, because the original headset has a short "stack height," the number of headsets I can use is limited--unless I replace the fork with one on which the steering column wasn't cut.  And why would I want to replace the fork?  So the headset I got is black, albeit of high quality.


I'm also making a couple of other changes, which you'll see when I unveil her--after my first ride.


And the mixte-o-mania continues.  I found this photo of an old Raleigh Super Course mixte:

Back in my early adolescence, when I was barreling around town on my Schwinn Continental, I wanted--for a time, anyway--this bike.  Of course, back then I wanted the diamond frame, which was no less pretty than this one.


Its color remains, to this day, my favorite shade of red I've ever seen on a bicycle.  I don't remember what Raleigh called it, but I would say it's a deep candy-apple shade.  And it looked great with those white panels and outlines.  


I didn't get the bike.  It was just as well, really:  Later, I ended up buying a Peugeot PX-10, which was a much nicer bike.  When I started to work in a bicycle shop, during the mid-1970's, I saw that the quality of all but the three or four top models of Raleigh was declining.  In fact, I saw more than a few new (at that time) Records, Grand Prix and Super Courses--not to mention Sprites and three-speeds--with misaligned frames, bottom bracket threads that weren't cut properly and bearings that seemed to have sand instead of grease in them.  


Even so, those red Super Courses sure were pretty!  Not as pretty as my bikes though, just as no other cats are as cute as Charlie and Max! ;-)

A Storm Coming

In the part of Florida where my parents live, one can see a storm coming from miles away.  In fact, I've pedaled into them.  The good news is that most of them don't last long, so it's usually possible to wait them out.


On the other hand, there aren't many parts of New York where you can see a storm coming so clearly.  Where my parents live, it's flat and there are almost no buildings of more than three stories.  The campus where I work is sort of like that:  Though there are more buildings, more densely spaced, than in my parents' area, none are high.  And it's kept that way because the JFK International Airport runways are only three to four miles away.


So it's possible to see a storm coming, as I did when I was leaving:

I decided to chance it.  But I pedaled only two blocks before a rain fell that, along with the darkness, made it impossible to see more than another block away 

Pondering Marianela's Fate

I'm still debating what to do with Marianela.  I don't think selling her will bring enough money to make it worthwhile.  I suppose I still could donate her, which might be a halfway noble thing to do.  


But even that doesn't seem feasible, in a way. When I donated the Bridgestone Mountain Bike, at least it was a bike that its intended recipient--an immigrant who's working in construction, landscaping, restaurants or wherever else they need cheap labor--would be happy to get.  It's in a fairly common size, albeit a little bigger than the mountain bikes I used to ride.  And, not having suspension but having good, basic components, it makes a a good transport bike and is not overly complicated or esoteric.

However, mixte frames of any quality are hard to come by in Marianela's size.  My two Mercian mixtes are both custom frames--one (Helene) built for me and the other (Miss Mercian II) built for Pete, from whom I bought it.  Just as most clothing manufacturers still seem to think that women don't need inseams of more than 30 inches, bike makers seem to think either that there aren't any women over 5'6" or that those of us who are taller are just men with a couple of different parts.


So, the fact that it's a tall mixte is almost, by itself, reason to keep Marianela, even if Miss Mercian II becomes my commuter.  I could keep Marianela locked up outside, so the limited space in my apartment wouldn't be an issue.  And, as I mentioned earlier, I think that there will still be times when she'll come in handy.

If I keep her, though, I might get a pair of plastic fenders to replace the ones I took from her.  They wouldn't be as pretty as the fenders (Velo Orange Zeppelins) I had on the bike, but they might be more practical for a bike that's going to be parked on the streets and not well cared-for.  


I would definitely need to replace the seat, though.  Right now, she has the one that came with Miss Mercian II.  That seat is one I wouldn't ride in any case, and it's entirely unsuited for upright bars.  I suppose I could buy a Brooks B-67 or something similar for MMII and return the Gyes to Marianela.  But the Gyes is pretty well broken-in and I don't want to take the time to break in another saddle.  Besides, something cheap, and possibly made of synthetic materials, just might make more sense on a bike I'm going to leave on the streets.  

Urban Bicycle Anthropology--Or Is It Archaelogy?

There are bikes on encounters, it seems, only when they are locked to sign posts or parking meters in large cities.

Talk about a Frankenbike!  This is a Schwinn Varsity, circa 1974-75.  I base those dates on the color and the fact that Schwinn was offering it around that time, which was when I first started to work in bicycle shops.


That a Schwinn Varsity or Continental of that vintage is being used for a city transport bike is not unusual.  I had a continental, and I recall what a tank it was.  And, it was a "lightweight" bike:  The Varsity was, if I recall correctly, about three or four pounds heavier.


Well, someone lightened this Varsity.  It has alloy rims and Continental Gator Skin tires. (I know those tires are not lightweights, but compared to the original equipment, they're helium balloons. )  And those bars--they alone save about two pounds over the original equipment!  I know they're not the originals because they're alloy.  That alone would have halved the original weight, but then most of the bar was cut away.

Is the bike's owner a messenger? Can't be a hipster:  The bike still has its derailleurs.  They're the originals, in fact:  Schwinn-branded Huret Allvit on the rear and a Schwinn-branded Huret on the front.  What's really strange, though, are the shifters.  Yes, they are also the originals, but stem-mounted shifters really look strange with those bars--and brake levers.


And on this bike we find the ultimate weight-saving measure:  no saddle.  Yes, that has to be at least two pounds of avoirdupois excised from the ensemble.  Believe it or not, I've actually seen cyclists ride without saddles.  The thing is, nobody believes you when you tell them that's how you lost your virginity!


Anyway...I concede the seat might have been stolen. However, when one sees a parked bike without a seat (but with a seatpost remaining in the frame), it's usually starting to decay, and is often missing other parts.  So I'm wondering whether the bike's owner removed the seat when he/she parked the bike.  Usually, though, when cyclists remove their seats, they take the seat post, too, because their bikes have quick release clamps.  Whoever removed the saddle of from this Varsity must have used a tool of some sort.  Given that the bike has good tires and fancy brake levers, perhaps the seat is a Brooks or something similar.


Ok,I'll admit it:  I must be a real bike geek if I can look at a parked bike and speculate as much as I have about how it might have come to be what it is now.

Progress Report: Miss Mercian II

Marianela feels exposed these days.  Well, she should see Miss Mercian II:  She’s barefoot.  Or tireless, anyway.  Wait, is that the right word?  Well, you get the idea:

She may not have shoes, I mean tires, yet.  But she’s got some nice accessories, like the fenders:

And you remember the Gyes Parkside with my DYI Carradice bag quick-release?  Well, I think MM II is going to wear her well:

Especially since she has gloves, I mean grips, that match, more or less:

The shifter is a Sun Tour micro-ratchet model.  It’s one of a pair, but I’m only using the front.  That’s because MM II is going to have only one chainring on the front:

Amazing, isn’t it, what you can find if you hit a bike shop at the right time.  That’s how I got the Origin 8 chainring, which is really the Rocket ring.  And the chainguard is from BBG in Oregon.

I cleaned the cranks (They came with the bike.) and the logos just happened to come off. ;-)  They were a bit tarnished, so I rubbed them with some fine steel wool. I followed that with a couple of dabs of Simichrome polish, and, after buffing the cranks, I wiped everything down with some Never-Dull pads. 

The cranks, by the way, are Shimano Deore FC-MT 60.  About 20 years ago, higher-end mountain bikes were equipped with them.  They are like a triple version of the Sugino Alpina, which means that they would make nice touring cranks.  But they came with those infernal Bio-Pace chainrings.  The ones that came with these cranks were pretty worn, which gave me a good excuse to get rid of them.

About the accessories:  The cage is from King—not the same one who makes the headsets.  This King makes these cages from stainless steel in Colorado. 

And the rack, which came with the bike, was made by a classic British manufacturer:  Tonard.  If you look at some of those old English club bikes, the racks and bag supports might have been made by Tonard.  I don’t know whether they’re still in business, but it seems like they made some good stuff, on par, quality-wise,  with similar Carradice, Karrimor and Chossy products

And, because I’m so self-indulgent, I’m going to leave you with a couple more shots of the lugwork and tubes.

Hotter'N Hotter'N Hell?

Yesterday, I rambled (or babbled, depending on your point of view) about a ride I've never done in a place I've never been anywhere near.   I've been to Texas once in my life, and came away convinced that nowhere is near anywhere else in that state.  Perhaps you can forgive me for having such an impression if you understand my perspective:  New York, where I live, is closer to either Boston or Washington, DC than Dallas is to Houston.  And Houston is further from Wichita Falls, the home of Hotter'N Hell Hundred, than New York or Boston are from Montreal.  

Anyway, after I declared my fascination with (which, I guess, implies some interest in doing) HHH, I was a wuss today.  The temperature  reached 104 degrees in Central Park.  Even though the humidity, by definition, can reach only 100 (percent), it seemed to be even higher than the temperature.  

Penny-farthing thermometer

I might have gone for a ride had I wakened earlier, or gone toward the water.  However, as much as I dislike the heat and humidity, they weren't what deterred me.  I took one look at the haze that smudged the sky and said, "I am not going to breathe that shit!"  I could have dealt with the heat simply by hydrating--I've done that on rides when the temperature, if not my mileage, reached the century mark. However, I do have a fairly sensitive respiratory system, and I didn't think going for a ride in those conditions would do me much good.  I might go for a short hop later tonight, after the temperature cools to, oh, about 92 degrees.  To the folks in Wichita Falls, that's probably a chilly Hotter'N Hell Hundred.  (Is that an oxymoron?)

Hotter Than...

Today was so hot...


Today was hotter than...


Today has been one of those days when, it seems, everyone has his or her own version of one of those two declarations.  Today was so hot that my lycra melted off me.


I could have used that line a few years ago.  These days, I don't own any lycra bike clothes, or much of anything in lycra.  So I have to come up with something new, I guess.


Being the religious sort that I am (ha, ha), I can't say hotter than aitch-ee-double-toothpick.  But it seems that a bunch of riders in Texas can.  They even have a ride named after it:  The Hotter 'N Hell 100. 

Now, I'll admit, I have never been to HHH (the last "H" is for "Hundred") or, for that matter, Wichita Falls, Texas.  But if it's even hotter than it is today, or they have days like this every day for months on end (as they have in the part of Florida where my parents live), I'm not so sure I'd want to go there, at least at this time of year.  


Now, I have ridden in the mid-afternoon heat of days even hotter than this.  So I suppose that I could condition myself for HHH.  After all, I have ridden a hundred miles on days when the temperature reached 100 F.  I admit, though, I haven't done anything like that in a while.


But something about the ride intrigues me.  Well, any ride with aitch-ee-double-toothpick in its name is bound to get my attention. The grandparent of all such rides is, of course, l'Enfer du Nord, or the aitch-ee-double-toothpick of the North, otherwise known as the Paris-Roubaix. It's held in early spring every year, and the weather has ranged from hot and dusty to windy and snowy--and everything in between.  At least, anyone who signs up for HHH knows it's going to be hot, or so I imagine.


Is that hot weather guaranteed?  If the day turns out, by some chance, to be more like a perfect spring day--say, 70 degrees F without a cloud in the sky or much humidity--can the participants demand a refund of their registration fees?


Hmm...What if a cyclo-cross race were held and all the mud dried?  Or what if there were no snow for Iditarod?  What would people do?


If you're reading this and you're going to ride in HHH, I wish you well.  Have fun!