The Only Attitude Is In The Name Of The Bike

I hadn't ridden along that stretch of Metropolitan Avenue, or in that neighborhood, in at least five years.  That, in spite of the fact that it's only about twenty minutes' worth of pedaling, if that, from where I live.   


The area has the feel of an old-style New York blue-collar neighborhood.  That in itself is not a reason for me not to ride there; in fact, my old Brooklyn neighborhood was very similar, so I feel somewhat comfortable in it.  Plus, that stretch has one of the better pizzerias and a couple of really good Italian bakeries, as well as a few pleasant family-owned stores of one kind and another.


One of those stores is Twin Bicycles. Eric, who is now one of the part-owners, looks like one of the kids who'd come into the shop to buy BMX bikes or accessories, or simply to hang out.  He's actually very friendly and articulate, and wanted to know as much as he could about Arielle, the bike I rode today.  Back in the day, the shop sold bicycles like the ones I saw in the window:

They are Klein mountain bikes, made in the USA before Trek took over the company.  The one in neon sunset colors is the "Attitude" model.  It, and the other bike belong to a longtime customer of the shop.  In fact, that customer bought the bikes new from the shop.  Although the Attitude's paint job could have come from the period, it was re-painted when the bike was re-fitted with the Rock Shox front fork.  


Here is another shot of them:

With those paint jobs, I felt as if something like Depeche Mode's "Enjoy The Silence" should have been playing in the background.  I have always liked that song, but thought it was a little odd because the lyrics include these lines: "Words are very unnecessary/They can only do harm."  That may be true, at least in some instances.  But how would the song have been written without words?


But I digress.   Those of you who have '80's and '90's mountain or BMX bikes might want to get in touch with Eric, for he has some new-old-stock parts from that era.  Among them are a dozen sets of SunTour XC roller-cam brakes that are still in their original boxes!  


Anyway, our conversation reminded me of how long it had been since I'd visited the shop, or ridden that stretch of Metropolitan Avenue.  I asked about his father, who owned the store.  "Oh, he died five years ago."  That surprised me, for I thought he couldn't have been more than about five years older than I am.   Complications from diabetes claimed him only two years after his father (Eric's grandfather) died the same way.


Right now, all of the bikes in the shop (the ones I saw, anyway) were repairs.  "Lots of people want to fix up their old bikes," he said, confirming what I've seen and other shop owners and employees have told me.  Still, he plans to sell new bikes again:  He said he's just made arrangements with Trek.  Given the neighborhood and Twin's history as a family-oriented shop, it makes sense.  


I might take another ride over there soon, as I saw at least one item I might use.  Plus, Eric is a pleasant fellow.

Two Guys And Two Bikes By The River At The Gate Of Hell

Today's ride took me through, among other places, Randall's Island.

There I saw two guys and two bikes by the East River:

Behind them was the Gate of Hell--or, more precisely, the Hell Gate Bridge:

Underneath Hell Gate was a "Native Plant Garden."  Somehow it seemed a bit of an oxymoron.  Still, it was lovely.

I especially liked this particular flower:

After the reverie of seeing it, I pedaled across the newly-reopened 106th Street Bridge onto a newly-reopened (but not entirely repaired) path/greenway along the river in Manhattan--East Harlem, to be exact.  After climbing the shallow but steady climb through Harlem, Hamilton Heights and Washington Heights, I crossed the George Washington Bridge to the New Jersey Palisades.  


After more riding through New Jersey and Staten Island, I thought I'd gotten away from the Gate of Hell.  Well, maybe I got away from the fire of it--but I couldn't escape the mist.

And then, finally, I got some advice upon re-entering Manhattan.

Back to the guys and their bike--and Tosca, the bike that took me through these adventures:

Milestones

From  Markerica

This is, for me, an interesting time--at least in terms of this blog.

Within the past two weeks, Midlife Cycling has reached three milestones:  500 posts, 70,000 views and two years--in that order.

There may be changes coming soon.  But don't worry:  This blog is even more of a pleasure for me than it was the day I started it. I hope you feel the same way.  In any event, I anticipate writing and riding through some more milestones.


Thank you for reading, and please share this blog with your friends.

Getting Caught Without My Raingear

Last week, I wrote a post in which I asked you, dear readers, how you decide whether or not to ride in the rain--or when the weather looks chancy.  I also asked whether you bring rain gear if there's a chance of rain.


Well, on my way home last night I felt like an utter fool.  You see, I had to Kingsborough Community College for a workshop and because I agreed to proctor an exam.


Both appointments were in the morning.  So, I anticipated leaving some time in the afternoon.  The day started off bright, sunny and a little bit cool.  The air warmed up, but the skies didn't become any less clear, during the ride--parts of which are quite pleasant.  My destination is in a part of Brooklyn called Manhattan Beach, which looks more like a town on coastal Long Island or Connecticut.  


Well, for various reasons, I ended up staying later than I'd planned.  And, by the time I was ready to leave--around 7:30--rain had begun to fall.  No, forget that.  It was as if the sea, which abuts the campus, was pouring itself over the buildings, paths and gardens.


Of course, I didn't have any rain gear with me.


I thought I could wait it out. After about half an hour, the rain let up.  Not even two minutes after I pedaled off the campus, I rode by the eponymous beach.  You can guess what happened next:  Another deluge, even harder than the one I waited out, came raining down.  The only problem was that there was no shelter.  There were no houses on that stretch, no lean-tos or even trees.  Worse, lightning started to flash all around me.


Within seconds, it seemed, my skirt, blouse and sweater were soaked.  My sandals were like completely full sponges under my feet.


I rode another couple of minutes, to a mini-plaza with a pizzeria, a coffee house and a couple of small stores.  I was about to stop there--the thought of a slice of hot pizza (at a place where I'd had good pizza on other rides)appealed to me.  But the idea of sitting someplace, soaked to my skin, did not.  Then I thought about taking the train, about half a mile away. When I got to the station, though, I realized that the train's air-conditioning might be running.  Sitting in it, in my besoaked condition, definitely would not have been a good idea.

From The Guardian (UK) Bike Blog

So, even though I knew it would take me about an hour and fifteen minutes to get home, I continued to ride.  Somewhere around Brooklyn College, in the middle of Brooklyn, the rain started to let up.  It had all but stopped by the time I crossed the Pulaski Bridge from Greenpoint into Queens.  From there, it's only a few minutes to my apartment.  I stopped at a greengrocer:  the boxes of strawberries and the piles of cherries (both red Bings and yellowish Queen Annes, which taste like a cross between a sweet cherry and a nectarine) in their bins were even more appealing than the pizza had been an hour earlier.  So, after filling my Carradice Nelson Longflap with the luscious fruits, I pedaled home.


The most interesting thing--to me, anyway--was that, except for my sandals, I was dry.  And so was everything in that bag.


That fruit sure was good.  So was the concoction I threw together:  chicken, corn kernels, scallions, chili peppers, Italian green peppers, red bell peppers and mushrooms, all stir fried with a little bit of curry powder and soy sauce, and tossed over some Japanese buckwheat noodles.  Max and Marley were all over me:  They liked the chicken, too. (All right, I cooked some without the vegetables and sauce and noodles for them.)

A Derailleur I Don't Miss

As I've mentioned in earlier posts, I don't do "retro" for the sake of being retro.  I like the ride of high-quality steel frames, and like the look of lugs.  I also like leather saddles and canvas bags, for looks as well as comfort (in the case of saddles) and durability (the bags).  Also, I appreciate the craft that goes into many of those items.

There are some "old-school" parts I really like, too.  As an example, I probably will ride cranks with square-taper bottom bracket axles for as long as they're available. (I went through eight ISIS bottom brackets in the three years I rode a crankset made for them!)   And, I like Lyotard-style platform pedals with toe clips and straps because they don't require the use of special shoes or cleats--and, frankly, they're better-made than most clipless pedals.  (For a time, I was replacing my clipless pedals every year, even if I didn't crash them.)  And, although I've ridden some of the exotic pre-made wheelsets, and owned a couple of pairs, I prefer handbuilt wheels with traditional (not straight-pull) spokes.

On the other hand, I don't understand the fascination with some "old-school" stuff, save for collectors and people who want to do "period" restorations.  

Here is an example of what I mean.  The other day, this derailleur ensemble sold for 170 dollars on eBay.  Granted, it is in New Old Stock (NOS) condition, meaning it had been sitting in some box or drawer for the past forty years.  

While these parts aren't as common as they once were, they haven't exactly disappeared from the planet, either.  The pieces of the ensemble were made by Huret. The shifters and front derailleurs were decent: not as good as Campagnolo's best or almost anything SunTour ever made, but competent enough, especially in their time.  However, there was no excuse for the rear derailleur, even when it came out.

The Huret Luxe Super Touring rear derailleur was scary.  When you rode it, I mean.  It shifted with all of the predictability of Lady Gaga's sartorial choices.  To be fair, the same could be said for most wide-range touring derailleurs of that time (circa 1972) that weren't made by SunTour.  The Campagnolo Gran Turismo didn't shift much better than the Huret.  But at least the Campy GT shared a trait of other Campagnolo derailleurs at that time.  Frank Berto best described that characteristic when he said, of the Nuovo Record, that it would shift poorly forever.  

From VeloBase 

The Luxe's body consisted of spindly stamped steel pieces riveted together.  Even on the "racing" version of the Luxe, which had a shorter pulley cage, the pieces would work themselves apart, destroying even the pretense of shifting ease or precision.  The long-caged version would deteriorate even more quickly because the extra length of cage and chain created even more stress on the fragile body.

For a couple of years, some European bikes (such as the Raleigh Super Course and  Motobecane Mirage) were equipped with this derailleur.  Such bikes were usually "sport" models with a wider range of gears than were typically found on such model.  The Luxe Super Touring may have been the first European derailleur made to shift onto a 32 tooth rear cog.  (The largest most other derailleurs could handle was a 28; racers in those days typically had largest gears of 21 to 24.)  It came out just as SunTour derailleurs were first becoming available outside of Japan; within a couple of years, SunTours would adorn the Super Course, Mirage and many other mid-level European and American bikes.

When it was new, the Luxe ST sold for around twenty dollars; the ensemble in the photo went for about forty.  Within a couple of years of its introduction, SunTour and Shimano derailleurs that shifted much better, and lasted longer, could be had for half as much, at least in the US. (Japanese components were significantly more expensive in Europe.)  Still, it appears that Huret made the Luxe derailleurs until the early 1980's, when Sachs bought Huret and a few other French component makers.

As I said, I can understand someone buying a Luxe or Gran Turismo for a collection or a "period" restoration.  But I would not install them on any bike I intended to ride anywhere besides an "oldies" show.