Taming The Bicycle

From High Wheel Bicycle

On my bicycle, I've raced, toured, commuted and delivered pizzas, books, payroll checks, blueprints, contracts, machine parts and a few packages with "don't ask don't tell" policies, if you know what I mean.


I've thumped along potholed city streets, rumbled down rocky hills, rolled along county roads and routes departmantles past fields, castles, cathedrals and through forests and villages. I've woven my way through pacelines and drafted riders I would pass and others who would ride in races, and in places, I have never seen.   I've cycled over ice and through fire.  (I'm not making that up!)  I've ridden alone, with friends, with lovers and after breakups.  And I've pedalled away from a person or two.

On the other hand, I've never done BMX, bicycle polo or paintball on bicycles.  And I've never ridden a high-wheeler, although I sometimes think I'd like to.  After all, my cycling ancestors did so.  They include Auguste Rodin, H.G. Wells and Mark Twain, who wrote an incomparable account of the experience.  


He tamed his bike the way he tamed just about everything else: with his wit and irony.  Really, I don't see how a cyclist can not develop at least a little bit of either quality.  

Rene Herse Demountable

Imagine getting started in cycling (or just about anything else) without the Internet.

Well, if you're of my generation, you don't have to remember.  You relied on books and magazines--and your local club (if you had one) and bike shop.

I was reminded of this when I came across a page that archives some old articles from Bicycling magazine. 

I thought about the bikes I learned about--and, in most cases, never actually saw--while reading the magazine.  Their names alone were journeys into places I had yet to visit and times I would never see.   I mean, when you thought the choices in bikes were among three-speeds, Columbias, Murrays and Schwinns, names like Hetchins, Routens, Jack Taylor, De Rosa, Alex Singer, Mercian, Pogliaghi and Rene Herse seem other-worldly.


And, of course, there was no way I could have afforded those bikes.  All I could do was to save those copies of Bicycling and read about them--and look at the photos.

From Laek House

To this day, I haven't seen some of those bikes.  One I'd really love to encounter is the Rene Herse Demountable.  

Yes, it's a folding bike.  The mechanisms used to collapse were found on the down tube 

 

and the top tube

 

 Note the placement of the shift levers!


The Bicycling article makes folding the bike seem easy.  I wonder just how easy it--or, for that matter, transporting it--actually was.  If nothing else, I'm sure it was a better ride than just about any other folding bike ever made.


The demontable I'd really like to see is this women's model.

Super-rare Rene Herse women's Demountable.  Photo from Bikeville.

I can only imagine what some Japanese collector would pay for it.

The Original Bike Luggage?

I was looking through some of the photos I took at the New Amsterdam Bike Show.  One of them got me to reminiscing.




Brooklyn Cruiser bicycle


There was a time in my life when milk crates served as furniture, storage units, shelving--and bicycle luggage.

Milk crates have been attached to rear racks with zip ties, hose clamps, rope, bungee cords and old inner tubes.  When I had a milk crate on my town/commuter bike, more years ago than I'll admit, I attached it with toe straps.

You can even use a milk crate to turn your bike into a tandem.  Why didn't I think of that?

Whenever I see of milk crates, I think of Lego blocks.  They are structured, and fit together, in much the same way,and come in the same colors.  They are fun--and practical.

Remember:  Milk crates are your friends!