A Fallen Woman (On Her Bike)

Had a bit of a mishap yesterday.  On my way to work, a driver pulled out of a parking lot and into the street, about twenty feet in front of me.  I made a panic stop. Fortunately, the driver and I didn't collide.  However, I took a tumble.  


Except for a bent Jitensha handlebar, the bike incurred no damage.  However, my left knee hit the pavement.  So, it's swollen and bruised, and I feel pain when I bend it.  I feel it when I bend to sit down, but not once I sit down. However, it's painful to cross my legs.


I've been to the doctor.  He said, "It feels worse than it actually is."  That's good to know.  A few days of staying off it as much as possible should heal it, he says.  


So, if we get the snow, sleet, hail, slush and everything else the meteorolgists have forecast for this weekend, I won't mind, really.  I'll read, write, play with Max and do some cooking.  Maybe I'll make some soup: I haven't done that yet this "winter."


Oh well.  If I get some miles in before the season starts, at least I can be in something like reasonable shape.  Meantime, I'll keep on posting!

MAMILS

It's about a year old.  I'm linking it because it describes the very antithesis of what I want in this blog, or for my life.

The BBC News item talks about Mamils--Middle-Aged Males In Lycra.  According to the article, those men are trying to fight back the passage of time--and divert themselves from the mundanness of their lives--with expensive racing bikes and overpriced team bike wear.

What I am going to say next may seem to reflect my own biases as a cyclist.  I'd say it's better--for those men and for everyone else--that they're riding bikes, even if they're over the top, rather than squiring around girls half their age in sports cars.  For one thing, cycling is better for their health, even if they're not climbing Mont Ventoux.  For another, a man who has the discipline to train and who will ride long distances or intense sprints, let alone up mountains, can be something of a role model to his kids and others in his life. 

Plus, as expensive as the bikes and team kit are, they're still far less expensive than new red convertibles or services rendered, if you know what I mean.

The only real problem I have with men like that is that many of them leave their wives alone on weekends and at other times.  Then again, men (and not only those in midlife crises) do the same thing, and worse things, when they abscond with their female accessories in their racy new cars.  For that matter, golf, fishing and any number of activities in which men engage leave a lot of lonely wives in their wake.

Still, I'm glad I didn't become a MAMIL.  Why do you think I'm Justine, and not Nick, now? ;-)  Perhaps now I can call myself a MAWRIH--a Middle Aged Woman Riding In Heels.

Suicide Machines

I don't want you to infer anything about my current state of mind from this post.  Its topic just sort of happened when I stumbled over something on eBay.

I haven't seen one of these in person for some time.  Apparently, Simplex- made this front derailleur--commonly referred to as the "suicide" front derailleur-- almost to the beginning of the "bike boom"  of the early 1970's. When I first started riding distances, as a teenager in the mid-1970's, I actually saw a couple of them.  They were ridden by cyclists whose bikes were made before I was born and who most likely started cycling some time before my parents were born.


If you don't like downtube shifters, you'd hate this derailleur because you actually have to bend over enough for your head to touch the top tube of your frame (if it's a diamond-style) in order to turn the lever.  


Probably the one good thing about it was that it eliminated the stretch and flex of cables that are used on nearly all shift levers.  On the other hand, modern designs have made that flex less of an issue.


Other companies, including Campagnolo, made similar front derailleurs.  But it is most associated with the French manufacturer SImplex because they invented it and it was the most prevalent type of front derailleur during the 1940''s and 1950's, when Simplex ruled the derailleur world in much the same way Campagnolo, SunTour and Shimano would in future decades.


If you were riding this "suicide" front derailleur, there would have been a good chance that you were riding another "suicide" part--a stem.

Track racers--particularly in the days of the Six-Day Races-- used these stems, which were usually made of forged steel, because different events called for different riding positions.  I've known a few people to ride them, and nobody was hurt from them. That may be due to the fact that they were all highly experienced and trained riders who knew enough to keep the pinch-bolts tight, or had someone else do it for them.  


Sometimes shops and teams used "suicide stems" for fitting and positioning purposes.  Usually, after the shop's fitter or team's trainer figured out the right position for the rider, the stem would be replaced with a solid one in the proper size.


If you were riding a "suicide stem," you may also have been riding on Cinelli's M-71, a.k.a., "Suicide" pedals.

Introduced in 1971, they are the forerunners of modern clipless pedals.  However, they have one distinct disadvantage vis-a-vis Look, Time, Speedplay and SPD's.  Those pedals are like modern ski bindings:  When you step into them, they click and grab your cleat.  To disengage, you turn your heel outward and your foot away from the bike.  On the other hand, to get out of the Suicide Pedals, you have to bend over--in a very similar way to which you would have to bend for the "Suicide" front derailleur--and flick a lever on the pedal.  I simply can't imagine using these pedals in a peloton and, I believe, nobody ever did.


If you were riding "suicide" pedals, front derailleurs or stems, chances are you weren't riding this item:

During the bike boom, many people bought bikes with dropped bars because they were fashionable.  Most, who weren't cycling much beyond the local park (if they cycled at all) found they didn't like riding in a bent-over position.  So, brake-maker Dia Compe invented these levers to fit on Dia Compe's road levers, and similar ones like those from Weinmann.


Why were brake extension levers bad?  Well, they cut down on how far you could pull a brake lever, which cut down on the amont of leverage you had when braking.  Also, the hardware that connected the so-called "safety levers" to the regular levers tended to come loose quickly and often, which led to the risk of those levers coming off altogether when they were used in an emergency.


Do you know of any other bike parts nicknamed "suicide"?  We are going to use them to build the velocipedic equivalent of Bruce Springsteen's "Suicide machines"!

Sunset Pinup

Today is Charles Dickens' 200th birthday.  Although I can't connect it to anything I've posted here, I thought it is worth mentioning. 

And exactly one year ago yesterday, I wrote what has been, by far, my most widely-read post to date:  "Which Bike Was Pinned Up?".  All those people read it because of my wit, erudition and knowledge of bicycling. Right?

On the other hand, yesterday's post, "When All Ways Lead To The Sunset" may not ever be as widely-read.  But writing it, and putting up those photos I took, felt good.

Now I am going to do the seemingly-impossible, thanks to a serendipitous discovery on the Internet.  I mean, how can you not love this?:

When All Ways Lead To The Sunset

Today I did something I don't normally do:  I rode Tosca to work.  I had no particular reason; I didn't have much to carry today, so I thought it might be fun.


And I took a slightly different route home from the one I'd been taking.  I had just passed through Flushing Meadow-Corona Park when I saw how I was going to ride the rest of the way (well, most of it, anyway) home:

It was enough to make me ride alongside the railroad tracks.  The tracks are lined with, well, what one expects to see along railroad tracks: some warehouses and dirty, sad-looking dwellings facing the concrete barriers by the tracks.  But even they, and the wires over the tracks, felt serene, bathed in the simmering orange light:

As you know, my bikes are very well-trained, so Tosca knew exactly what to do.

And, yes, by the time I got home, everything was just starting to turn to dusk.  And Max, my dusty orange cat, greeted me.

Real Football

Today is Super Bowl Sunday.  So, being the sort of person I am, I am going to do something fairly subversive:  I'm going to post about the "other" football, a.k.a. soccer.


How does that relate to cycling?, you ask.  Well, I didn't think it did, except that they are both sports that make extensive use of a person's legs.  However, I found a connection between cycling and football, believe it or not:

Bicycle Football World Cup, 2010

Believe it or not, this is a UCI-sanctioned sport.  That, of course, proves the NFL has nothing on the UCI!

Banana At The End Of Christopher Street

If you are of my or Steve's or Gunnar's generation, you probably remember when bananas were "energy bars."  That's what we ate during rides before there were Power Bars, Clif Bars and such.


If you're of our time, you might also remember the movie "Bananas."  That came out a couple of years before a Presidential adviser tried to tell people that a dip in economy was a "banana."


But if you're a cyclist of our generation, apart from the association with the original cycling snack, you probably connect the word "banana" with "seat."  


From about the mid-1960's to the mid-1970's, banana seats were found on a variety of kids' bikes on which kids did "wheelies". I'm thinking of the Schwinn Sting-Ray and Apple, Orange and Lemon Krates as well as the Raleigh Chopper and other bikes.  


Those bikes, and seats, had all but disappeared by the early 1980's.  There are several explanations as to why.  There were rumors circulating (Remember, this was before the Internet!) that there were lawsuits involving people who got hurt when seat struts broke.  That seems plausible enough, given that, as often as not, those seats were carrying two kids at a time, and those seats weren't designed for that.

But the more widely-believed reason for the disappearance of banana seats were the rise in popularity of BMX and, later, mountain biking.  Smaller seats and lighter frames are better suited to those kinds of cycling, for a variety of reasons.


Also, the kids who rode those bikes simply got older.  Some of them moved on to road or mountain biking, but most put bicycling aside altogether once they got their drivers' licences.


I understand that banana seats are enjoying something of a resurgence in popularity.  Today I saw one where I wasn't quite expecting it:

Susan says she "loves" the banana seat on the rear of her otherwise utilitarian Giant hybrid bike.  I can only imagine what it's like to pedal from back there.  Come to think of it, I'm not sure I'd want to.  I also don't think I'd want to pull a "wheelie" on that bike!


Anyway...I've seen bananas at the end of Christopher Street--just not banana seats!

Is It English Or American?

Today, if someone has heard of AMF, he or she is most likely a bowler.  AMF remains one of the main manufacturers of pin-setting machines and other equipment used in kegling.

However, not so long ago (I say things like that to make myself feel young!), AMF was actually one of the world's largest bicycle manufacturers.  Around the same time, they also manufactured Harley-Davidson motorcycles.  But AMF bicycles never inspired the sort of loyalty that HD motorcycles have long enjoyed, and with good reason.   Most AMF bikes--which were sold under the "Roadmaster" name--were sold in department stores and were inferior even to other department-store brands like Murray and Columbia.

Roadmaster was a free-standing bike brand before AMF took them over in 1950.  A few years later, AMF would sell another line of bikes made for them in England--in Nottingham, no less.  You may well have seen one of those bikes, sold under the name "AMF-Hercules".  I saw a pretty fair number of them when I was growing up.

Those bikes bore all of the hallmarks of an English three-speed:  the same kind of lugged frame made from mild steel, the steel sidepull brakes, handlebars, stem and cottered cranks--and, most important, the same Sturmey-Archer three-speed hub.

In fact, if you stripped away the AMF-Hercules decals and badge, you'd probably think you were looking at a Raleigh, Rudge, Robin Hood or one of any number of other English three-speeds from that time.

However, the AMF-Hercules bikes differed in a few details from their Anglo peers.  It seems that AMF marketers thought that the bikes would sell only if they were given some of the same baroque flourishes found on American balloon-tired bikes (like the Schwinn Phantom and Hollywood) of the time, which in turned echoed the fulsomely-fendered and lushly-chromed cars of the time.

I mean, look at that chainguard.  Would any bike maker in Albion come up with something like that?  Or look at the two-toned seat and matching bag.  I don't recall seeing anything like those in the Brooks catalogues!

So...Was it an English bike trying to be American? Or was it an American bike in the body and soul of an English bike?

Future Shock Today

Someone--I forget who--once told me, "Anything you do in a car, you can do on a bicycle." 

My grandmother once told me, "Be careful of what you wish for; be careful of what you believe in."

Never did it occur to me that those two statements could actually converge.  Now I realize that it was bound to happen, given that I wished to believe the statement that opened this post.  If I do say so myself, that statement been true in my life:  I've never owned a car and have no wish to own one.

But I never realized just how true it could be until I came across this:

Who would have thought it possible to take the same obnoxiously loud stereo systems some young men have in their cars and transplant them onto bicycles?  The Future Shock Bike Crew, that's who.

The Crew consists of unofficial founder Nicholas Ragbir and his sister Jessica, and of Bhimraj brothers Anil and Travis.  They emigrated with their families from Trinidad and Tobago to the Richmond Hill neighborhood of Queens--about seven miles. or a quick run on Tosca, from my apartment.

I've actually seen them on the streets.  Unfortunately, I was on my way to or from work, or was weaving through traffic, so I have never had the chance to talk with or photograph them.  However, I recently found a page devoted to them on the Worldwide Cycling Atlas.

I wonder how long those young people keep on "pimpin' out" their bikes with stereo equipment and "peddling" their music through the neighborhood.  Their exploits involve DJ'ing and engineering as well as cycling.  Who knows:   They might develop whole new genres of cycling, entertainment or technology.  Whatever they do in the future, I hope it's as much fun for them as what they're doing now!

Sheldon, Aaron and Bob

Today was an unusually warm day for this time of year.  Because of a scheduling oddity, I didn't have classes today.  So, I took Tosca out for a ride through some of the landmarked areas of Woodside and Jackson Heights, as well as the promenade along that starts near LaGuardia Airport and goes to the World's Fair Marina.


Then I had an appointment in Manhattan, to which I rode Vera.  I changed bikes because I changed clothes:  from sweats and trainer shoes to a skirt, blouse and dressier shoes.


After my appointment, I took a quick swing down to Bicycle Habitat, from which I ordered Tosca, Arielle and Helene as well as some of the components I hung on them and other equipment I use with them.  Hal wasn't in, but I did see two employees I hadn't seen in a while:  Aaron and Sheldon.

Sheldon is an old riding buddy whom I didn't see for about a decade or so until I bumped into him in the shop not long before my surgery.  I don't think I'd seen him since some time in the fall:  I think I showed up on his off-days or -hours.


Aaron, like Sheldon, has been working in the shop for some time.  He doesn't want me to publish his photo. However, he said I could publish photos, and write about, of one of his bikes, of which I'd only heard before today.  

It's a nice Bob Jackson from, I believe, the '70's.  He's outfitted it with contemporary components: The only "period" pieces are the SunTour ratchet shifters and Cyclone rear derailleurs.  I can understand using those:  I used them myself, back in the day.


I remember, as a teenager, seeing Bob Jacksons, Mercians, Ron Coopers and the frames of some other English builder--I don't remember which, except that I don't think it was Jack Taylor--in a catalogue somewhere.  

I knew that the best racing bikes were believed to be those from Italy and a few American custom builders. The English made some excellent racing frames, too; in my heart of hearts, I really wanted one of those--or one from a French constructeur--even more than an Italian bike.  I would eventually ride, and race, on a couple of Italian bikes, but I really liked the ride qualities of those English frames (I got to try a few that belonged to customers in shops where I worked.).  Plus, the Italian racing frames always seemed gaudy to me, even in my youth; I always felt that my "bike for life" would have the meticulous lugwork and other detail of those English builders.  Their workmanship impressed me more than what I saw on the Italian bikes.

The only braze-ons the frame has are for the water bottle cage (on the downtube only) and a "stop" for the shift lever band.  That was typical on bikes of that time:  at least a couple of bikes I owned were so made.


That frame is at least thirty years old, and it's not hard to imagine Aaron--or somebody else--riding it for another thirty years.  I think Bob Jacksons are still being made--although, by this time, I rather doubt Bob Jackson himself is building them.  I don't know whether Ron Coopers or Jack Taylors are still being built:  I haven't seen references to them in recent catalogues or magazines.  At least it's nice to know that Mercian is still keeping up the flame they, and those other builders, kept burning for decades.