I've just stumbled across another bike site I like: #BikeNYC.
It's photographer Dmitry Gudkov's series of portraits and profiles of New Yorkers who ride bicycles to work or simply to get around.
Included is a portrait of what I'd like to look like, on and with my bike, in my next life. And there are lots of images of attractive, stylish people who ride. But Gudokov's photos aren't just "fashion shoots" with bikes as props. His subjects work in diverse fields (lawyers, janitors and everything in between) and live in a variety of neighborhoods throughout the five boroughs. One of my favorites is a guy named "Jamaica," who lives in the eponymous neighborhood in Queens. I think I've seen him; I work not very far from where he lives.
I haven't replicated any of Gudkov's phots here; he doesn't allow anyone to copy and paste them. Given that he is a photographer, I can understand his wish (and, possibly, need) to do so. So I'll just encourage you to visit his site. While you're there, check out this portrait of Hal, the longtime mechanic of Bicycle Habitat. He's the one who turned me on to Mercians, and who built the wheels for the ones I ride.
It's hard to beat athletic events for displays of intense concentration. I don't think the competitors are being melodramatic when they grimace, shout or contort their faces and bodies, and focus their eyes, in ways that do not allow for the recognition of anything but the task ahead.
It was especially striking to see on a clear early spring (more like mid-spring, weather-wise) Sunday in a Corona park.
I try not to think or talk too much about teaching when I'm away from it. (Goddess knows that I have to spend lots of time reading and grading papers and tests, and preparing lessons.) However, I couldn't help but to think of a comparision-and-contrast exercise: between the kinds of intensity displayed by the bocce player in the first photo and Bernard Hinault in this one:
Although my ride was leisurely, the bike that got me there seemed to be focused on getting me there and wherever else I wanted to go. Track bikes, I think, are rather like that: The fixed gear wastes little energy to flexing or bending, or to the friction of the mechanisms that would be necessary to allow the bike to coast. This also means the rider can't waste motions, even when riding in the meditative way I was.
All right. Since it's Saint Patrick's Day, I'll show you a nice green bike--one that's not Vera, anyway.
I found this image of a Freddy Grubb track bike on Megadeluxe Sports. You'll find other interesting stuff there.
If you're involved in any sort of endeavor or follow any sort of passion for long enough, you see all sorts of trends come and go. So it is for me (and, no doubt, some of you) and cycling.
What inevitably happens is that some people cop the style rather than the substance of the trend. That turns the trend into a parody of itself.
I fear that may be happening with Porteur bikes and racks. When I first started seeing them here in the US, I thought "Great! People are actually going to ride to work and shop."
I'd say that more people are doing those things, at least here in New York, than were doing them a few years ago. Also, not everyone who commutes or rides to the farmer's market is a racer or wannabe, or simply a "bikehead." I see more and more people who are primarily commuters and who might, on occasion, ride for fun.
But then the look of Porteur bikes and accessories became fashionable, and those items became fetish objects for some. Now, if someone has the money and really intends to carry the loads, I can understand spending over 200 dollars on a Porteur rack. On the other hand, the fact that such racks and bikes are now fashionable makes them more inviting to thieves. I'm not so sure I'd want a fancy rack on a bike that was going to spend large portions of every day parked on the streets.
Perhaps the solution is this:
The bike is a Bridgestone from, as far as I can tell, the early '80's (pre-Grant Petersen). I think the rack came off an old pizza delivery bicycle.
For me, that begs the question of whether something can be called "Porteur" (or even "utility") if it's shiny and new.
A series of neighborhoods dangles along the banks of the East River like a cedille from Astoria Park to the Williamsburg Bridge. They include Astoria and Long Island City in Queens and Greenpoint and Williamsburg in Brooklyn. There may be more cyclists, per capita, in this corridor--in which I happen to live--than in any other part of New York City. In fact, I doubt many American urban neighborhoods outside of Portland (and, perhaps, Seattle) can rival the concentratration of bicycles and cyclists found here.
So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see this near the Long Island City (Queens) side of the Pulaski Bridge.
The first time I saw it, I wondered what all of those bicycles were doing in a bus kiosk. Then I saw the sign.
On the block before it, there is a row of bike racks that's almost always full.
The bike at the front makes me wonder just how good an idea unsecured open-air bike parking facilities actually are. On one hand, I'm glad to have dedicated bike-parking spaces. On the other, I can't help but to think that maybe they're targets for bike thieves and cannibals.
Maybe I'm just too accustomed to locking to parking meters and such--or not parking my bike and not doing business with stores that don't allow me to bring my bike in.
Anyway, I got in a quick ride after work the other day. At times like that, I'm thankful for Daylight Savings time, and Tosca likes rhe photo ops available on the Greenpoint (Brooklyn) side of the bridge:
