This bike was parked outside PS 1 this afternoon:
Because I have a weakness for stories, I constructed a few in my mind. I imagined a four-year-old girl looking at Lara Favretto's pieces. Wow, I thought, that girl is a much better kid than I was!
Then again, she might have been sneaking away from her parent(s) or whoever else was caring for her. That would make her more advanced, at least, than I was. Imagine having the wherewithal to be able to rebel in such a way! Imagine being able to choose, at that age, riding your bike to an art museum as a form of rebellion!
Or, perhaps she (I assumed she was a girl. I apologize for being so inculcated with patriarchal notions!) was a midget hipster, or hipster wannabe. Believe me, I've seen hipsters ride much stranger bikes than this one!
As I was about to take a picture on my cell phone, a woman walked toward the bike. I explained that I wanted to take a photo for this blog. I got to glimpse and wave at her daughter, who rode the bike and whose name I didn't get. But the mother's name is Holly. Holly, I hope you're reading this!
Anyway, from PS 1, I rode over the Pulaski Bridge into Greenpoint. On the bridge's bike/pedestrian lane, and into Brooklyn, I found myself riding behind a man on this bike:
It's a Strida. I snapped the picture--again, with my cell phone--as we were riding. I was going to approach him at the next light, but he turned. Oh well.
Perhaps the little girl who rode the bike parked at PS 1 will grow up to ride a Strida--or Brompton or some other small-wheeled bike for grown-ups. And maybe she'll bring it inside PS 1 or her school or workplace.
On the other hand, I don't imagine the man I saw on the Strida had ever ridden a bike like hers!
After the rain stopped, and I'd downed a lunch special from Fatima Chinese Restaurant (a Halal Kung Po Chicken with Hot and Sour Soup), I hopped on Tosca.
My late-afternoon ride took me through some areas that are very familiar to me: the industrial areas that line Newtown Creek from the Queens side of the Koszciusko Bridge. Even on weekdays, there really isn't as much traffic as one might expect--and, because much of it is truck traffic, it's sporadic.
Railroad tracks rim the creek on the Queens side. Next to the tracks are warehouses and small factories that line Review Avenue. I've been trying to find out how that street got its name: It doesn't look to me like very many things ever got reviewed there.
Across the Avenue from those factories and warehouses is a cemetery. Actually, you can't see the cemetery from the street, as it's on higher ground. So, what you see is a stone wall.
What's interesting about the stone wall is the graffiti: It's from a more innocuous time, at least in terms of graffiti:
Also, it's much simpler, in composition and color (Do I sound like a pretentious art critic, or what?), than what we see today.
The style and the content of the graffiti tells you that it's older. Plus, I've seen the graffiti on that wall for the past 25 or so years. In fact, I even recall seeing some of it, including the piece in the next photo, during my early adolescence, when my family passed through the area on our way to visit relatives.
It makes me wonder where Joe is now. He's well into middle age, or possibly even an old man, if he's still alive. I suspect I could say the same things about Al. As for Marty and Janet: Did they stay together? Get married? Or did one of them go away to college, or war , and never see each other again?
I also wonder whether any of the people (men, mostly) who work in the area have ever noticed the graffiti on the wall. If they haven't, I guess the job fell to a cyclist. It makes sense: Cyclists, in my experience, tend to be curious people. I wonder why that's so.
Since January, I have been commuting on MKS Lambda pedals. They are, of course, the pedals that Rivendell sells as its "Grip King" model.
Well, these pedals certainly live up to the moniker Rivendell gave them. Nearly every comment I've read or heard mentioned their grippiness. And, while nearly all of the comments were positive, a couple of cycling acquaintances warned me that they could become slippery in wet weather. Apparently, the "cups" on the pedal collected water and made the pedal slick.
I am happy to report that I didn't experience anything of the sort--even when I got caught in a torrential downpour moments after pedaling away from the Kingsborough campus. It was the heaviest rain in which I've ridden in some time, so I feel confident that a cyclist's feet remain on the Grip King/Lambda pedal even in the worst of conditions.
My confidence in the grip of these pedals is enhanced by the fact that I have ridden on them in Keen sandals, slingbacks with three-inch heels, LL Bean rain boots, cross-trainers and a few other kinds of shoes. In fact, I feel even more confident about the grip of these pedals than I do about the grip of rubber-block variety found on three-speeds.
About rubber-block pedals: MKS makes what is probably the only high-quality, rebuildable version of such pedals available today. They are also one of the last makers of good-quality traditional toe-clippable road pedals. But, in my experience, MKS doesn't seem to regard people who want such pedals as a "captive" audience. The company--which still makes all of its pedals in Japan--builds sturdy, well-finished pedals that are reasonably priced and lighter than some cyclists might expect.
Lambda/Grip King shares the qualities I've just mentioned. Mine have survived, with hardly a scratch, a couple of close encounters with curbs and a fall I took. And, even though they are the widest pedals I've ridden in a long time, I am surprised at the amount of cornering clearance they offer. On the other hand, they don't offer the kind of ground clearance you can get from the company's GR-9 platform pedal, or its White Industries or Lyotard counterparts.
The Grip King/Lambda pedals also share another characteristic of MKS pedals--at least the loose-bearing models, at any rate. Chances are, when you turn the axle on your brand-new set, it will feel a bit tight. You might even feel a slight amount of roughness. If you're a perfectionist, you can repack the grease or even change the bearings. But I found that after a few rides, the bearings started to feel smoother. Now, while not as smooth as sealed-bearing pedals, they are probably as smooth as the best ball-bearing pedals I've ridden.
As for the bearings: They are not cartridge bearings, which are what most people think of when they hear "sealed bearings". However, the steel balls in the Lambda/Grip Kings seem well-protected against the elements. So, even though I've ridden through some bad weather, and anticipate riding through some more, I anticipate riding these pedals for quite a while before I'll need to overhaul them.
I will admit that, when I start pumping or spinning at the end of a stressful day, I do miss having foot retention on these pedals. Even though these pedals will hold your feet, you can't "pull" on the upstroke as you can with toe clips and straps or "clip-in" (what the Brits sometimes call "snap-in") pedals. I tried installing velcro grip straps but they were too wide, and spaced too close together, to fit on the Lambda/Grip Kings. I ruined the straps when I tried trimming them to fit. Maybe I'll try another pair.
Like many of you, I thought the pedals were pretty strange-looking when I first saw them. However, when you're riding, you don't see your pedals much. Also, because they have a flat profile, they don't stand out as much on many bikes as you might expect. They blended in surprisingly well on Vera, the bike on which I've been commuting. That may have something to do with the Velo Orange "hammered" fenders I installed on the bike.
On the whole, I highly recommend the MKS Lambda/Grip King pedals for commuting, errands and shopping, or any other kind of cycling for which you wear ordinary shoes and don't care about speed. The MSRP seems to be around $55; however, you can get them for around $40, or even less, from Tree Fort Bikes (which have become one of my favorite online bike retailers) and a few other places.
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