From A Hairnet To A Tortoise Shell

How many of you rode "leather hairnets"?  


I never did, and never had any wish to do so.  I never saw the point of them.  


Now, how many of you rode this helmet?:

If you did, you remember that it was the original Bell "Tortoise Shell."  Actually, I'm not sure that was the actual model name, but that's what everybody (at least, everybody I knew) called it.


When it was introduced in 1975, it was as much an advance over the leather hairnet as a Commodore computer was over an abacus or a slide rule.   I finally started riding with a Bell about seven or eight years after it was first introduced.  My mother gave it to me.  


A few years later, I replaced it with another Bell.  By then, the "Tortoiseshell" seemed like a dinosaur:  My new Bell had more ventilation, was lighter in weight and offered even more protection than my old helmet.


And, most important ;-), it came in a dazzling array of colors:  black, yellow, red, blue and white.  The original Bell was the photograph negative of the Model T:  You could have it in any color you wanted, as long as it was white.


Believe it or not, every once in a while I see someone riding an original Bell.  They were indeed well-made.  The thing is, I get sweaty.  Plus, if I'm going to ride more than a couple of hours, the weight of the helmet matters.


Still, the original Bell helmet is one of bicycling's evolutionary "leaps," along with Mavic's hook-bead rims, the slant-parallelogram derailleur and sealed bearings.

Gerald Is A Good Mouse Because I've Got A Bike

I know a mouse and he hasn't got a house.
I don't know why I call him Gerald. 
He's getting rather old, but he's a good mouse.

Would you believe the above stanza is from a song about bicycling?  Well, it's sort of about bicycling, anyway.

You wouldn't need to believe it--you'd know it--if you were a Pink Floyd fan.  What's more, you'd know that Syd Barrett was probably the only one who could've pulled it off.  At least he could before the drugs destroyed him.


I heard "Bike" today for the first time in I-don't-know-how-long.  It doesn't, like most of PF's music from their early (pre-Dark Side of The Moon) albums, doesn't get much airplay these days.  One reason, of course, is that it doesn't have the polished, orchestrated sound of the songs on DSTM and later albums.  Also, I think this song and others from The Piper At The Gates Of Dawn are even more surreal, but not dreamier, than other psychedelic music of the time.    It's not the sort of thing people tune into "Golden Oldies" or "Classic Rock" stations to hear.


All right.  You didn't come to this site to read half-baked commentary about music.  The reason I'm mentioning Bike is that hearing it made me realize how few songs (popular ones, anyway) there are about bicycling.  It seems that about the only one most people know is Queen's Bicycle Race.  

By Golden Bird

I wonder why that is.  After all, there's a pretty fair amount of visual and graphic art, as well as literature, about cycling.  Or, at least, bicycles or bicycling are at least part of the material for those works.  As I'm not a musician, I couldn't make a song about two-wheeled trekking.  I have written a couple of poems about cycling; I suppose I could write one that someone could set to music.  

I know that many cyclists (I include myself among them) are avid readers and writers, and I know of at least a few (including Lovely Bicycle's "Velouria") who are photographers, painters and artists of other kinds.  So it seems natural that we'd have literary and visual works about cycling.  However, I've known more than a few cyclists who were musicians, and Eric Clapton is known to have a passion for cycling.  So why the apparent dearth of songs and music about cycling?


What do you think, dear readers?

It's Got Your Name On It!

On my way to work, I took a photo of a parked bike with my cell phone.  I tried sending it to my e-mail address, but I got a message saying that the photo exceeded the maximum file size. 

Maybe I'll see that bike again and take another photo.  For now, I'll just say that it had an unusual look, although it looked like a perfectly functional bike.

On the other hand, I really have to wonder how much the builder of this bike was thinking about function:

"Mathilde" is the creation of Parisian designer Juri Zaech. He makes bicycles frames in the shapes of the names or words the customer chooses.  Check out the tandem he built for Megan and Elton.   

What's interesting, though, is that none of the bikes have pedals, cranks or brakes.  Even with their curvaceous lettering, they make "hipster fixies" seem utterly Baroque by comparison. 

If you were cycling about thirty years ago--or simply like bikes from that period--you might want to get the "Regina" model and fit it with the freewheel of that same name and Campagnolo components.  Now that would make for a strange bike.

Even if the "name" bikes are completely unrideable and are meant only as wall art, I love them.  I'm having a very difficult time, though, imagining how a bicycle frame could be shaped to fit my name!

Two Signs of Spring

Today's commute to work included two sure signs of spring.

One is something most people associate with this season:  the blooming of small flowers.  The violet wave I saw in the breeze were, as it turned out, a carpet of Iris reticulata:

 There must have been something in the light and air:  from a block or so away, I couldn't see the soil and I just barely noticed the green leaves rippling among the sea of indigo petals.

When I got to campus, I noticed another "sea," or at least a wave:

 
Yes, the bike rack was full when I arrived.  Actually,there was one space left--behind the motorcycle.

The weather reports say there's a chance of rain tonight.  One could hardly have guessed that on such a clear, dry--if somewhat brisk--early-spring day. 

A Bike That Could Have Been An April Fool's Joke

"To save weight, they used drilled-out tires and water bottles."


Yes, that is a joke.  But it was about a real bicycle.


Actually, the bike itself was a rather noble attempt to offer something unique.  Lambert bicycles were first built in England during the 1970's.  Apparently, someone bought the old Viking Cycle factory in South London and decided to make some high-quality bikes.


The frames were actually rather nice:  lugged and built from Cro-Moly aircraft tubing .  Later, after Yamaha (as in the motorcycle maker) bought the company, the frames were filet-brazed.  That is the same construction method used by the best tandem-builders and a few builders of single bikes. Still later production came from Japan, and then Taiwan (when the latter country was still making the worst bikes that weren't from India).  


The frames had a rather lively feel to them.  Unfortunately, they were paired with aluminum forks. Today that's not so unusual; however, at that time, I don't think anyone knew how to build aluminum forks.  The result is that several cracked and Lambert had to make a massive world-wide recall.  


Some of the parts weren't a whole lot better than the fork.  The original models had a rear derailleur that looked like a copy of the Huret Svelto and didn't shift as well.  (That's a bit like saying that some sandwich is a copy of a Big Mac but isn't as healthy.)  The front derailleur was like a Campagnolo Valentino--which had been an outdated design for at least a decade--and didn't shift as well.  Then there was the crankset, which looked like a TA Cyclotouriste but had more bolts, which meant that chainrings were not interchangable between the two brands.  Those cranks were attached to an axle that didn't have a taper:  Only a circlip separated the inside of the crank arm from the bottom bracket shell.


Probably the most interesting thing Lambert did, though, was to make a limited run of 100 bikes with an unusual finish.  It was gold.  Yes, that kind of gold, as in 24 karat plated.  Back in 1972-73, the complete bike, with alloy parts and sew-up tires and rims, sold for $259.95.

I can remember seeing this ad in Bicycling! and other bicycle magazines during my formative years.  

Classic Beginnings To Spring

Now we're having the sort of weather we normally get in the latter parts of November or Feburary.  So many people in this part of the world are wondering whether or not we had winter.


Officially, Spring began about a week and a half ago.  Of course, we all know that the beginning or end of a season hasn't much to do with an equinox. Or so it seems. 


Some Irish people argue that Spring begins on St. Patrick's Day.  Some old Sicilians say it starts with the feast of San Giuseppe (St. Joseph) on the 19th.  (I don't think it does; however, it's a great excuse for eating a sfingi.)  However, other Italians argue that the season commences with the Milano-San Remo race.  In fact, the race is commonly nicknamed "La Primavera." Other Europeans think la primavera or le printemps begins on the day of the nearest one-day "classic".  


One-day classics usually highlight a particular aspect of road racing such as sprinting (e.g., Milano-San Remo), climbing (La Fleche Wallonne) or the sheer ability to endure pain and torture (See the Paris-Roubaix, a.k.a., "L'enfer du nord.").  As one might expect, the first ones are held in Italy and, from there, they move northward to France, Belgium and the Netherlands.  


In times past, it was important for even the top racers to place well, if not win.  Cycling, which until the 1980's was sponsored mainly by bicycle-related companies and other mom-and-pop businesses, didn't pay as well as other sports like soccer/football.  Even Eddy Mercx built up his bank account--along with his muscles and his reputation--by winning more classics than any other racer in history.  That is one reason why, Lance's seven Tour de France wins notwithstanding, Europeans still hold Mercx in higher esteem--more than three decades after his retirement-- than just about any other racer.


Ironically, Australians won this year's and last year's Milan-San Remo.  In the native country of Simon Gerrans and Matt Goss, autumn was beginning when they won the race, as it was in 2009 when their countryman Mark Cavendish won.

Celebrating Everyday Rides

I actually studied poetry with Allen Ginsberg.  In addition to what I learned about my own writing, the experience furthered my appreciation for the poetry of Walt Whitman and--although he never mentioned his work--Pablo Neruda.  They, and Allen, are poets who celebrated common things and people.  So did Vachel Lindsay, but I never caught Allen's enthusiasm for his work.

Although Allen himself was never a cyclist, I feel that in some way, it was appropriate for me, as a cyclist, to have worked with him.  After all, cycling brings us closer to the common things (and people) those poets celebrated.  That is probably the reason why my bike tours of the French countryside are among my most treasured experiences.

However, even on a normal commute--or a wide to "unwind" after work, we can see beauty in the quotidian:

Last night, I managed to take a spin down to Sheepshead Bay after work.  I arrived to find these regal and mysterious-looking swans.

And, just a little while ago, I was treated to this sight at the end of the day:

 

If cycling didn't help me to appreciate everyday sights, I don't know what could have!

Through The Sprinklers

From RocBike

Today's commute turned into a game of "playing chicken with the rain."  Sometimes those commutes are the most fun because, when I do manage to dodge the rain, I feel like a kid who's gotten away with something.

The first half-hour of my commute felt like a ride across a big lawn lined with rotating sprinklers.  It seemed that, as soon as dewy drops evaporated from my nose and hands, I'd get spritzed with another quick round of moisture. 

However, about half an hour into my ride, heavier rain dropped from the sky.  Suddenly, I could just barely see ahead of me.  I ducked under a canopy in front of a store.  What kind of a store it was, I wasn't exactly sure.  The sign advertised photo finishing and passport service; inside I saw a jewelery case, a couple of fax/copy machines and a couple of desks.  And, although the store appeared to be open, I didn't see anybody--not even an employee--inside.  I wanted to thank somebody for providing such a good canopy exactly when I needed one!

Anyway, the rain stopped, but I saw lightning flash about a mile or so away.  I trusted-- for that moment, anyway-- the wisdom in the old wives' (how sexist!) tale of how lightning never strikes twice in the same place. 

Then it was back to riding in and out of the invisible rotating sprinklers.  It wasn't raining when I got to work.  About an hour later, the sun was shining and my students were staring out the window as I was teaching them the most important things anybody would ever teach them.  Well, I probably wasn't, really, but I have to make them--and myself--believe that.  Right?

Winter, Interrupted--Until Last Night

This has been a strange season, to say the least.  We had our only real snowfall at the end of October.  There have only been two, maybe three, stretches during which the temperature remained below freezing for two or more days.  Last week, the temperature reached 75F (24C) on consecutive days.  And, yesterday, the temperature dropped from 52 at the time I rode to work to 27 at the time I rode home.

I knew that the temperature was going to drop, but I wasn't prepared for such a large drop.  That has, in part, to do with the fact that I stayed about two hours later at work than I'd planned.  Also, the wind, which blew briskly when I pedalled to work, grew even stronger by the time I pedalled home--and I was riding into it for part of the way.

Really, though, I shouldn't complain.  Well, all right, I will anyway.  I bought some nice wool stuff this year that I never used! 

How Much Would You Pay For Bicycle Parking?

The number of bicycle commuters here in New York is certainly growing.  Even auto-centric public officials admit as much; I know that I see many more people riding to and from work than I did even a couple of years ago.

While this has helped to raise, however slowly, public awareness of the viability of cycling for transportation, it is also causing us to experience what NYC motorists have long complained about:  the lack of available parking, and the expense of off-the-street parking.

To its credit, the city is building more parking racks and stations.  And, two years ago, it passed a law requiring commercial garages and parking lots to provide parking spaces for bicycles.  

That all sounds really good.  But commuting cyclists have encountered another drivers' dilemma:  parking spaces in prime commuter destinations are very expensive.

The garage whose sign appears in the photo is at the low end of the price scale.  The only problem is that, while it's in a neighborhood (Prospect Heights, Brooklyn) where many cyclists live, not many work there.  On the other hand, prices for bicycle parking spaces in prime midtown Manhattan areas rival the fees for parking cars.  As an example, one garage at Bowery and Canal Street charges $221 a month.  Another near Columbus Circle charges $189 a month.

What's truly galling, though, is that some garages charge the 18.375 percent parking tax, which is supposed to apply only to motor vehicles.  Given that the city never has enough inspectors for restaurants and such, it's easy for unethical garage and lot owners to charge the tax with impunity.

Still, I'm glad that such parking facilities exist, even though I haven't had to use them myself.  But, who knows, one day I might.  Hopefully, there will be other improvements to the lot of bicycle commuters by that time!