The Day After The Super Full Moon

The other night we had a "super full moon."  Higher-than-normal tides usually come with it.  What that means is that when the tides recede, they leave even more sandbars exposed than are usually seen when the tide is out.

These above photo, and the ones that follow, come from Point Lookout, where I rode yesterday.

It seemed that everyone there was happy.  Why wouldn't they be?  The overcast sky opened to bright sunshine, and everything seemed so peaceful.  I pedalled into some wind on my way out there, but that meant an easier ride home.

Isn't that what everybody wants?

I Didn't Get Their Addresses; He Doesn't Have Mine

Today was one of those days that started off overcast and became almost preternaturally sunny and clear--during the course of my bike ride.  However, the temperature dropped noticeably as I rode toward the sea:  The water is still pretty cold and the wind was blowing from it.

At Point Lookout, a man who drove there with his girlfriend took this photo.  I took photos of them with their camera, and one with mine.  I'd promised to send it to them but didn't get their e-mail address!

Along the way, something even stranger happened.  I didn't take a photo, and I don't think I would've even if I could've.


I was riding along the Park Avenue, the main commercial street of Long Beach.  Along the way, I passed a cafe where a bunch of guys and their bikes were eating and drinking on the front terrace.  They were all in bright jerseys and had their racing bikes propped next to their tables.  I've seen countless groups like them; for many years, I rode with them.  Still, something felt even more familiar about the group I saw today.


As I passed directly in front of it, I caught the glance of a guy with whom I rode on any number of occasions.  The groups in which we rode were, for lack of a better term, spontaneously  assembled pelotons.  We weren't racing, at least not officially, but our competitiveness often turned from friendly to passionate to heated.  In other words, the testosterone level was high.


And the guy whose glance I caught for a moment was a kind of eminence renfrognee.  I think he scowled through his wedding and the birth of his daughter and when he ate lechon asado in holiday gatherings.  Heck, I even saw him scowl when he had a few beers in him.


I was told the guy was a photographer, but I never saw any of his work.  In fact, I never saw him working:  He was employed in a couple of bike shops and everyone who worked with him described him as lazy.  You'd never know that if you saw him on a bike.


Anyway, I don't know whether or not he recognized me.  I hadn't seen him--and, I presume, he hadn't seen me--in about ten years.  If you've been reading this or my other blog, you know that I've gone through a lot of changes since then.  I am a different kind of cyclist from the one I was when I was riding with him, and I'm not sure we could relate now.  For that matter, I'm not sure he'd want to.


I just hope he enjoyed his ride today at least as much as I enjoyed mine.

I Can Out-Retro Any Kid On The Block!

Take a look at this rim decal on an Electra touring bicycle:

Now look at this Mavic decal from the 1960's:

Don't get me wrong:  I prefer the graphics on many older bikes and components to their modern counterparts. (The fact that I ride four lugged Reynolds Mercians and buy stuff from Velo Orange should tell you something!) But I have to wonder about the impulse to create "genuine reproductions." 

I'm not trying to slam Electra:  I like a lot of what they displayed at the New Amsterdam Bike Show.  In fact, if I were in the market for a touring bike and didn't have my Mercians, I might well consider buying what Electra is offering.
  


For another example of something that seems as if its makers are trying to out-retro every other kid  on the block, take a look at this fork decal:

Compare it with these Reynolds fork decals from the 1980's:

As I said, I like much of what Electra is doing and wish them well. I just hope they don't get embroiled in some silly dispute with another company over who has the rights to copy some design that hadn't been in production for decades.


Now, for something that was decidedly not retro at the show, I offer this:

The show was sponsored by KLM and, not surprisingly, Grolsch beer was served.  All attendees who were of legal drinking age were offered two glasses "on the house."

Clothes Make The Man (Or Woman) At The Show

Let's go back to the future.  Actually, let's go back to the time when the movie by that name was on the big screens.

Around 1984 or 1985, it seemed that there was another new brand of imported (usually German, Dutch or Belgian) beer being served every week in the bars and restaurants of Soho, Back Bay and the Mission District.  Likewise, it seemed that new brands of bike clothing were appearing in bike shops with the same frequency.  That meant, of course, that there were a number of new lines of  shorts, jerseys and such at the bike shows. 

After a while, though, they started to look the same.  Don't get me wrong:  I did develop some favorites, based on fit, looks and other features.  However, by that time, most bike clothing was being made from Lycra, and was meant for racers or wannabes.  And, save for a couple of domestic brands, most came from Italy. 

Now let's fast-forward to the present--to this year's New Amsterdam Bike Show, to be exact.  Given that the show was held in downtown Manhattan, it was all but inevitable that clothes would be featured.  (And, yes, there was a bicycle fashion show.) But the threads were not the kind you'll see in the pro peloton, or even in a local race.  Instead, they were made for "real" cyclists.

In other words, they were made for people who ride to and from work, or to shop, go to art openings and such--or for sport and recreation.  The makers of those vetements were also thinking of people who will ride regardless of the time of day or weather.

One of the most fascinating exhibits, to my eye, was that of Vespertine.  Designer (and company founder) Sarah Canner was showing vests and sashes that, in daylight, don't look anything like what construction workers and traffic patrol officers wear.  Most interesting of all were a vest with a feather boa and a sort of short trench jacket that one could wear to an office or art opening.  They have reflective threads sewn that are not noticeable in ordinary light but, when headlights shine on them at night, glow brighter than almost any other reflective material you've seen.

I have been told that reflective clothing that looks like ordinary street wear has been available in Portland and San Francisco for several years.  But Vespertine, based only a few blocks from the New Amsterdam show, might bring the shine to the Big Apple.

Until recently, rainwear was just about as hip and fashionable as reflective wear was before companies like Vespertine came along.  Now, it seems, Cleverhood ( in Providence, Rhode Island) is doing for rainwear what Vespertine is doing for reflective gear:  making outerwear that is practical for cycling and other outdoor activities, but can be worn when off the bike or trail. 

There were other clothing exhibitors, but I'll mention just one more:  Twin Six of Minneapolis.   Part of the reason I'm including them is that Twin Six's Mark Fischer is one of the more interesting people I met at the show.  But his products are also worth mentioning:  caps, cycling jerseys, T-shirts and other bike-related apparel.  The main reasons to consider Twin Six are that their stuff seems well-made and (more important to you, I'm sure!) that they have their own sense of style.  You won't find the "billboard" graphics that dominate the team kit of major (and many minor) races.  Their prints and colors are also found on their messenger bags and water bottles, which I did not see at the show but are shown on their website.

Build, Ride And Show

All right.  Because you've all been such good readers, and I've been to a bike show, I'm going to treat you to some "bike porn."  However, I'm going to show you some important but not-so-flashy stuff first.

In an earlier post, I started to talk about some of the ways in which this year's New Amsterdam Bike Show was different from shows I attended in days gone by.  I mentioned the emphasis on utilitarian bikes.  As much as I love to ride for sport and recreation, I'm glad that some bikemakers are actually seeing, and selling, their wares as alternatives to cars.

In that regard, the bikes that impressed me the most are those from Yuba Bicycles.  They're probably the nearest two-wheeled equivalent to pickup trucks and vans.  The bikes are actually equipped with a "flatbed" in the rear.  Onto it one can attach seats, oversized panniers and even shelves. I've been told that these bicycles have been used to move the entire contents of apartments and houses, not to mention surfboards, stereo systems and such.

Yuba bikes must be seen to be believed.  These bikes are not for anyone who has even the slightest pretense of being a racer.  The wheelbase of a Yuba is nearly four times as long as that of Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike! 

The spiritual grandparent, if you will, of Yuba might be Worksman Cycles, who still make their machines in Ozone Park, Queens--just a few miles from my apartment.  I've mentioned Worksman in a previous post, and meeting Bruce Weinreb, the company's Director for Custom Programs and Special Markets,only deepened my respect for their products, and for the company itself.  Their industrial bikes are used all over the world, and countless pizzas have been delivered on their bikes.  They can be great alternatives to cars and trucks, if for no other reason than they usually outlast, often by decades, their gas-guzzling counterparts.

They also make tricycles.  I see at least a couple every time I go to Florida.  However, they're not only for those who can no longer (or never could) ride two wheels:  The space between the two rear wheels is all but ideal for baskets, bags and other ways of hauling cargo.  They also make a Special Edition:  the model you see in the photo.  Ten percent of the purchase price of each of those bicycles is donated to the Wounded Warrior Project.

Gazelle, which has long been noted for its city bikes with internally-geared hubs, is also making a bike out of recycled materials.  A lighting system is built into the bike:  The headlight is found where a head badge would normally be installed, and the tail light is under the seat.  Both are solar-powered, and are said to store more power--and use it more efficiently--than earlier solar-powered bicycle lights.

Another utility bike I saw at the show has a lineage almost as long as that of Worksman or Gazelle bicycles.  Actually, I first encountered it two nights before the show, in Tribeca's Adeline!  Adeline!, where I attended a party intended to launch Bobbin, a British maker of city and transport bikes, in the USA.   

At first glance, most people would think it's a folding bike or, if they're more knowledgeable about bikes, a replica of an early Moulton. However, there's no way to fold the bike, and about the only thing this bike has in common with the Moulton is its small wheel size.  It's what's known in Albion as a "shopper."  People ride them to marketplaces because their low profile makes them easy to mount and dismount when they're loaded, and easy to maneuver through the narrow aisles and crowds of people in marketplaces.  

All right, now that you've stayed with this post, I'm going to deliver on what I promised.  First off is a Horse track bicycle.  Check out the lugwork and paint:

 Here's one of their touring bikes:

And how can you not love a trussed frame like this one from Benjamin Cycles?: 

  
 Benjamin and Horse are both based in Brooklyn, NY.  Could we see the day when a model called "Greenpoint" or "Bensonhurst" has the same cachet as one called "l'Alpe d'Huez" or "Stelvio"?

When We Pedaled 100 Miles Barefoot In The Snow To Our Training Rides

On Le Col du Lauteret during Le Tour de France, 1930

At the New Amsterdam Bike Show, I bumped into someone who works at a bike shop I've mentioned on this blog.  As it happens, this person and I share similar tastes in bikes and attitudes toward riding.

He recently fixed up a vintage frame with components that were mostly from the same period as the frame.  After taking it out for a ride, he said there was something he simply could not understand:  "How did you climb hills with a 13-21 cluster?"

Back in the day, we didn't use cassettes that mounted on cog carriers on our rear wheels. They weren't available.   Instead, we used freewheels that threaded onto the hub itself.  We usually referred to the cogs that were on the freewheel as a "cluster."  So, a "13-21 cluster" meant that the largest gear had 21 teeth and the smallest, 13. 

SunTour "Winner" freewheel:  one of the best of its era

The ratio I just mentioned was the one most commonly used by racers. Usually, we rode them with front chainrings of 42 and 52 or 53 (or, sometimes, 54) teeth.  To compare, consider that most racers today are riding 12-23 or 12-25 cassettes with 39-53 in the front.

(Experienced cyclists know that in the rear, a smaller sprocket means a higher gear, but a lower gear on the front.)

"Sawtooth" pedals, a.k.a. Campagnolo Pista con denti

I was going to tell me young friend that, yes, we were tougher in those days before video games, i-Phones and such.  Yes, indeed, I would have told him that we pedaled--with our bare feet on "sawtooth" pedals--100 miles through the snow every day to get to our training rides. But my young friend is, of course, intelligent enough not to believe anything like that.  Besides, it's one thing for a middle-aged man who weighs about forty pounds more than he did in his racing days to say such things.  For a middle-aged woman to say it really would have stretched the limits of his credulity.  What I'm really saying in the previous sentence is that I would have simply felt silly telling a story like that.

Anyway, I ventured a few explanations for him.  For one thing, I said, we didn't know as much about cycling injuries in those days, so many of us pedaled and pedaled--in high gears--until we blew out our knees or hurt ourselves in other ways.  We thought we could "pedal through" whatever ailed us. Plus, the prevailing wisdom of the day stressed power rather than a high rate of RPMs. 

Also, I said, bikes and gearing were different.  Eddy Mercx won five Tours with only five gears in his rear cluster.  So, he was riding with ten speeds--in total.  Today, "ten speed" refers to the number of gears (sprockets) in the rear cassette of a typical (Shimano-equipped) racing bike.

What that meant was that the jumps or gaps between gears was much greater on five-speed clusters than it is on ten-speed cassettes with the same range of gears.  That is the reason why the smallest gears were bigger (typically 13 or 14 vs. today's 12 or 11) and the largest were smaller (19, 20 or 21 vs. 23, 24, 25 or even 26) than what's found on racing bikes today.

Back in those days, tourists rode clusters on which the smallest sprocket had 14 teeth and the largest comprised 28, 32, 34 or even 36 teeth. You can see that on a five- (or even six- or seven-) speed cluster, the gaps between gears would be enormous.  Some tourists would overcome that somewhat by having two closely-spaced sprockets (chainrings), along with one that was much smaller (the "granny" gear) in the front.  However, racers and others who ride a lot of training miles prefer smaller differences between gears because those differences are more noticeable on a lightweight bike that's not loaded down with panniers full of clothing and camping equipment.

"Corncob" freewheel.  Yes, I rode this very freewheel, and others like it!

In other words, we were riding those small ("corncob") clusters because of the quirks in the equipment that was available to us, as well as our relative ignorance about cycling injuries.  And, in my case, I had something (besides a few thousand fewer fat cells) in my body that I don't have now:  testosterone.  Of course, my young friend still has that.  So he has no excuse. (Ha, ha!)

In The Bag At The New Amsterdam Bike Show

In "What I Carried In The Original Messenger Bag"--one of my early posts on this blog-- I talked about a role the eponymous bag played in my life.


It may have been the only bag I owned at that time in my life.  Or, I may have had one or two others.  Truth is, I didn't have much I could have carried with them. 


Even so, I was always looking at bags in stores and on street vendors' displays.  After I quit messengering  (I know, such a word doesn't exist, at least not officially!), I went to work for American Youth Hostels.  At the time, they operated an outdoor equipment store and mail order service from the Spring Street headquarters in which I worked. One of the first things I did after getting my first AYH paycheck (which, believe me, wasn't much) was to buy a shoulder bag that I hadn't seen anyone else carrying.  

These days, I seem to end up with more and more bags, even after self-imposed moratoria on buying new ones, and after giving away or selling ones I have.  Even so, I'll look at more bags, as I did today in the Brooklyn Industries outlet store where Lakythia and I stopped during our ride today.


You might say I have a bag fetish. It seems that other cyclists share it.  I say that after seeing how much time and space is devoted to discussions of them on various online fora, and the numbers of them available.  Plus, it seemed that at the New Amsterdam Bike show, which I attended yesterday, there were almost as many displays, and more makers, of bags than bikes.  

There were the classic, traditional saddlebags from Brooks, which also showed a couple of modern shoulder bags, tool rolls and other bags now in their line.  There were also the icons of cordura cartage--namely, messenger bags and backpacks from makers like Timbuk2 and Chrome.

A company called Truce is making some interesting-looking bags--including long backpacks that seem inspired by rock climbers' rucksacks--in just about any kind of bright color you can imagine.  Their name and palette seem to be a rebuke or parody of the pseudo-military imagery other companies try to invoke.  

At the other end of the spectrum, literally as well as figuratively, Elektra is offering canvas panniers that mimic, in many ways, the Berthoud bags--which, in turn, are modern renditions of the French panniers of old.


So, tell me, dear readers:  Do we, as cyclists, have an obsession with bags?  Or was the high number of them displayed at the New Amsterdam show just a passing fad?  Or could it be that there really is much greater interest in--and, thus, a bigger market--for bags because more cyclists want to use their bikes for transportation and in other practical ways?  

A Bike Show, Then And Now

Today I did something I haven't done in nearly three decades:  I attended a bike show.  Specifically, I went to the New Amsterdam bike show in SoHo.


Naturally, I found myself making comparisons to the last show I attended, seemingly a lifetime ago.  That one was held, as the New York Bike Shows were for two decades, in one of the most unloved major buildings in the history of this city:  the New York Coliseum at Columbus Circle.   It was one of those boxy "International" style buildings constructed during the 1950's as part of one of the most cynical and duplicitous pieces of urban planning in the history of American cities, courtesy of Robert Moses.   


On the other hand, this year's New Amsterdam Bike Show was held in Skylight Soho, a renovated loft building that is part of a neighborhood that, around the same time the Coliseum was built, was nearly bulldozed for another one of Moses' schemes:  a cross-Manhattan expressway that would have connected the Holland Tunnel with the Manhattan, Brooklyn and Williamsburg Bridges.  It was one of his few ideas that, fortunately, never came into fruition.


All right, so you're not reading this blog for history lessons and half-baked ideas about architecture.  So I'll talk about some of the differences between the two shows, and how I was a different person at the time of each of them.


At the old bike show, the emphasis was on racing and touring bikes.  Mountain bikes were new; I think there was an exhibit or two of them.  But I don't recall any displays of utility or transportation bikes, which seemed to comprise the majority of bikes I saw at today's show.

Also, most of the companies that displayed at the old show were the "old school" names of the industry.  While a few American framebuilders and manufacturers exhibited, the majority of those who set up at the show were from Europe or Japan.  

On the other hand, most of the companies that showed their wares today were from North America:  mainly from the East and West coasts of the United States.  There were quite a few frame builders, a few manufacturers of bikes and even more smaller operations that made everything from purselike bags that attach to handlebars and racks to reflective clothing that looks just like stuff someone might wear to an art opening.  I'll talk more about some of those products in a future post.  While I liked some ideas and products better than others, I was glad to see all of those (mostly) young artisans, manufacturers and entrepreneurs: The stuff they're making might entice someone to ride his or her bike instead of a car to work or shop, or might entice someone else to ride a bike, period.  In contrast, most of the stuff at the old show had been made for decades and, through all of that time, was liked and disliked by the same people for the same reasons, and would entice no one into cycling for sport or recreation.


I mentioned that most of the people with interesting new ideas and products are young or youngish.  This is another departure from the old bike show, in which many of the companies were represented by the patriarchs of the families who started and owned them.  And, yes, all of them were male.




In fact, the only females I saw at the show back in the day were the wives, girlfriends and daughters of the men who exhibited or attended.  I take that back:  One bike company had a group of young women in lycra (which was new in those days) and high heels pedaling their bikes on a trainer.  


In other words, the women were props and accessories.  I was neither.  Now there were female artisans, entrepreneurs and sales representatives.  And I got to speak with one author.  I hope to be an author.  I can hope for that.  

Another difference between then and now is one that has to do with circumstances of my own life.  When I attended all of those years ago, I went with some guys with whom I worked in the bike shop, the owner, his wife and some of his friends.  I had known them for several years, but now I haven't been in touch with any of them for at least two decades.   Today I went to the New Amsterdam show with someone I had not met until the other day.  However, I have corresponded with this person for nearly three years.  I'll tell you more about that in a future post.  


At the old show, I didn't meet anyone I already knew. At today's show, I saw Charlie from Bicycle Habitat (who had an exhibit) as well as owners and employees of other bikes shops whom I knew at least in passing.  Plus, I met someone I hadn't seen in about a dozen or so years.  She has been a sales rep for one of the few big bike manufacturers I saw at today's show.  The last shop in which I worked sold those bikes, so she was in the shop pretty frequently. 


What did I say to her?  "My, you've changed!"  All right, that was a joke.  In reality, I passed by her table a couple of times before we caught each others' glances.  In a split-second, I did an FBI-style age-progression image in my mind and realized I was looking at an older version of the rep I knew all of those years ago.  Then she took a longer look at me.  "Should I know you from some place?"


The real question wasn't whether or not she should have. The real question was the way she knew me--and I knew her.  


Finally, at the old show, I think one or two cyclists' organizations may have set up tables.  But they didn't have nearly as active a role as the organization at today's expo.  One--which I never would have imagined back in the day--is a group of women who take social and training rides.  I signed up.  Back in the day, I never would have done that.

Bike Backdrops

Arielle in Point Lookout, NY

As Velouria and others have noted, bicycling and photography seem to go hand-in-hand.  Cycling experiences, and bicycles themselves lend themselves very nicely to photo-imaging, for a variety of reasons.

Tosca in Weehawken, NJ

Now, for those of you who like to photograph bicycles, I have a question:  Do you have a favorite backdrop or "prop"?  I always seem to photograph my bikes by bodies of water.  That may have to do with the fact that I have rarely lived far from a large body of water, and so much of my riding is alongside, or a few pedalstrokes up- or down-wind of them.   Then again, I don't think that where I've lived and where I've ridden are accidents:  I have always had an attraction, if you will, to the sea,


Speaking of cycling and photography:  I'm having a very interesting experience that involves both.  I'll tell you more about it soon.

Ways To Go In The Bronx

For a short local ride, one of my favorite destinations has become Concrete Plant Park.  For one thing, I just love the idea that someone converted an old factory to a park.  Better yet, whoever conceived of the park was absolutely brilliant in actually incorporating the old machinery into a recreation area.

The concrete path you see is a bike/pedestrian path that is being extended along the Bronx River.  With the old cement plant on one side of the river, and some old brick factory and warehouse buildings on the other, the park feels rather like an old New England mill town, especially in the spring and fall.

What is also interesting is that every kind of transportation, except for aviation, intersects there:

Motorized vehicles are not allowed on the path.  But, just outside of the park and under the railroad trestle (where, if you look closely, you can see a passing New York City transit train) is the bridge for Westchester Avenue.  And, when I was there the other day, motorboats stuttered over the surprisingly choppy water.

I understand that the Parks Department plans to extend the path along the entire length of the Bronx River to Westchester County, a distance of about ten miles.  That would definitely make for one of the more interesting urban bike lanes. Actually, it already is:  We just need more of it.