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?
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.
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."
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.
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"?
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