Bikes And Guns

I've never been too keen on guns.  Now, I'm not one of those people who thinks that getting a gun can turn someone into a mass murderer or serial killer.  (It seems that about 95 percent of the people I've met in the academic world believe something like that.) Two of my uncles were hunters; I simply never had any desire to join them.  And, although I had firearms training in my youth, I have  never had any inclination to own or use a firearm.

Most of the cyclists I know aren't gun enthusiasts, either.  I've known one cyclist who shot for sport, but only at inanimate targets on designated shooting ranges.  Other than that former riding buddy (a woman, actually!), the worlds of bicycles and guns have never, in any way, intersected for me.

What I just wrote would astonish or confound a cyclist of the 1890's.  Then, not only was it common for cyclists to carry "pieces" with them; it was more or less de rigeur.  And, Sears and Roebuck as well as other retailers offered revolvers, pistols and rifles designed especially for cyclists!

What's more, a few companies, such as Iver-Johnson and, yes, Smith and Wesson (!) actually made both guns and bikes.  The cities in which most firearms were made, such as Worcester, Springfield and Fitchburg in Massachusetts; Hartford, CT and Paterson, NJ, were also centers of the bicycle industry.l  Similarly, Birmingham and St. Etienne  also were the capitals of bike- and gun- making in England and France, respectively.  (They were also the centers of their nations' steel industries.)

As best as I can tell, guns made for cyclists differed from others in that they had shorter barrels so that they could fit into jacket or vest pockets.  Also, firearms for cyclists had mechanisms that prevented them from firing accidentally.   It would be an especially important feature, I think, for those who mounted "penny farthings" or high-wheelers, as riders tended to fall off them more often than those who pedaled "safety" bicycles.

The connection between firearms and bicycles extends, not surprisingly, to bicycle components.   Machine guns first became part of warfare during World War I.  A French soldier would study their mechanisms and use them as the basis for what remains, to this date, one of the greatest innovations in cycling:  Le Cyclo derailleur, which Albert Raimond designed and began to manufacture in 1923.  It is said to be the first reliable and practical derailleur made, and was seen on tandems in England into the 1970's.  Raimond would move to England and, with Louis Camillis, founded the British Cyclo gear company.  Their freewheels and other parts (including the derailleur, which became the Cyclo Standard) owed much in their designs and manufacturing techniques to the armaments used during the so-called Great War.

Cyclo Standard derailleur, 1930's.  From Disraeligears.

Today, few people make any connection between bicycles and firearms or warfare.  But, for better or worse, the development of the bicycle and that of firearms were once inseparable.  I wonder how our bikes today would ride, shift and brake had they not been such a relationship between wheels and revolvers.  Would frames have brazed-on brackets for carrying short rifles?  Hmm...

What To Do With A Rescued Frame

About a week ago, I mentioned that I "rescued" a rather nice old frame.

Turns out, I have most of the parts I'd need to build it.  So now the question is:  Into what kind of a bike should I build it?

As best as I can tell, this frame is a 1983 Trek 560.  That year, it was sold as a complete bike with SunTour Blue Line derailleurs along with a mixture of other Japanese components, most of which were reliable if not fancy.  However, in that component mix was a Helicomatic freewheel.  It was a good idea, and, had it been better-executed,  we might be riding it, or other hubs based on its design, instead of Campangnolo- and Shimano-style cassette hubs.

The frame itself was made from Reynolds 501 tubing.  Apparently, Reynolds made it for only a few years during the 1980's.  It's butted, but heavier than 531, 631 or 853.  Also, it differs from those higher-quality Reynolds tube sets in that it has a seam.   It's actually much like the tubing used to make the Bridgestone RB-2 I rode briefly, until it was stolen.  

A number of entry-level racing bikes (or relaxed road bikes) were constructed of 501 during the mid-1980's.  In addition to Trek, Peugeot, Gitane and a few other European bike manufacturers made bikes from this tubing.

The paint on this Trek is in pretty rough shape.  It's better on the seat tube because there had been a "panel" decal there, which was removed.   I suppose I could paint it and build a pretty bike from it.  But I'm thinking of turning the bike into a "beater" or winter bike.  If I do that, I will probably use a single speed (perhaps a "flip-flop" hub) on the rear and a single chainring.  And I have a scratched-up pair of Velo Orange Porteur bars (which have become my favorite upright bar).  

If I turn it into a "beater" or winter bike, the parts are going to be functional but not fancy.  On the other hand, if I take more care and make it prettier, I might end up selling it.  Whatever I do, this is going to be an interesting project, I think.

Getting There: Further Improvement To The World's Fair Marina Promenade

Yesterday I rode along the Worlds Fair Marina promenade on my way to work.  As I reported a couple of weeks ago, the path had been extended to the Northern Boulevard Bridge.  But there was a problem:  access to the Northern Boulevard Bridge.  

To get to the bridge's walkway, you have to cross an entrance ramp to the Grand Central Parkway. The worst part is that it is on a sharp curve, so motorists approaching the ramp are likely not to see cyclists or pedestrians crossing it.   At night, the visibility is even worse.

Well, since my previous post about this route, a crosswalk has been painted, and curbs have been cut at each end of it.  Best of all, there's a traffic signal there. 

Although it's an improvement, I still think there is a problem with the crossing. Because motorists approach it from a curve, they may not see the signal until they are within feet of it.  And, unless there's a traffic jam, they drive through the curve at highway speeds, or close to them. So I have to wonder whether some of those motorists could slow down and stop quickly enough when they approach that crossing.  

So, even though it's safer than it had been, anyone crossing from the bike lane to the bridge needs to be, really, just as cautious as he or she might have been before the improvements.

Getting there....

A Hosteler

How many of you have gone on a hostelling trip?

As I anticipated my first bike trip abroad, I told people I was going to stay in hostels, at least for part of my trip. In those days, most Americans--at least those I knew--had no idea of what a hostel was.  What's really funny, in retrospect, is that some of the grown-ups in my life (I thought I was one; now I know I wasn't!) were actually more worried about that than about my plan to camp on nights when I didn't stay in hostels. 

Actually, I didn't bring camping equipment with me, save for a sleeping bag and Swiss Army knife.  On those nights when I "camped", I slept under bridges, overhangs or the stars (or clouds).  

In the months leading up to that trip, I pored over hostel guides.  In one of them, I found out that there was actually such a thing as a hosteling bike.  In fact, the French bike company Gitane actually made a model called "The Hosteler."

When hosteling, one doesn't have to carry quite as much equipment as is necessary for camping. So, a hosteler probably can get away with riding a lighter bike with a somewhat shorter wheelbase-- and, while he or she would need sturdy pannier racks, they probably wouldn't have to be quite as strong as a camper would need.

At least, that's what I surmised when I saw the one and only Gitane Hosteler I ever saw.  It looked like a nice bike, and I expect that it would be, as Gitane made some well-designed and crafted bikes.  (However, you never knew what components you'd get on your Gitane:  They had a reputation for using whatever they had on hand.  So, as an example, one model came with Huret Allvit, Simplex Prestige, Huret Svelto and Campagnolo Valentino rear deraileurs--all within the same model year!)

Anyway, I indulged in a few memories on coming across the photo I've included in this post. The owner of the Gitane Hosteler had just had it restored.  However, I don't think there are any original parts on it!  Still, it's a fine bike for hosteling.  If anything, the modern drivetrain components made it even better.

Bicycle Races: A Labor Day Tradition

To many Americans, today--Labor Day--is the unofficial last day of summer.

To many American cyclists and cycling fans, Labor Day weekend marks the end of the racing season.  According to VeloNews, regional races dominate this weekend's cycling slate.  There is an omnium in St. Louis; there are stage races in, among other places, Vermont and Colorado and a variety of one-day and stage races, as well as criteriums, on courses all over the nation from Massachusetts to California.

While most of these races originated during the past thirty or so years, there are some Labor Day events that have been running for as long as bicycle races and Labor Day have been in existence.

That makes sense when you realize that bicycle racing in the United States began at roughly the same time Labor Day began to be celebrated.  On Tuesday, 5 September 1882, rhe first labor festival was celebrated in New York; within three years, other industrial centers had their own celebrations.  Oregon (Doesn't it figure?) became the first state to establish the holiday in its state constitution, and in 1894. Labor Day became a Federal holiday.

Many still consider the 1890's and the first years of the 20th Century to be the "golden age" of bicycle racing in the US. While bicycling was fashionable among the monied set (In those days, a typical bike cost about $100: about  $2700 in today's money.), prominent racers of that time typically came from the working classes and were immigrants or their children.  In fact, the first African-American sports superstar was Major Taylor, who set several world records

The connection between cycling and labor indeed ran deep: The manufacture of bicycles was one of the major industries in some of the nation's industrial centers, such as Worcester, MA; Hartford, CT; Paterson, NJ; Philadelphia, Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis---and, of course, New York.  Not surprisingly, those cities hosted races on Labor Day as well as at other times of the year.

Even after the introduction of the automobile, large numbers of people rode bicycles to work and for recreation--and, of course, countless kids rode them to school and the local park.  The decline in adult cycling didn't begin until the automobile became a mass-market item during the 1920's.  However, bicycle racing continued its popularity, particularly among the working classes and in communities of European immigrants.  Track races, including the six-day events, filled venues such as Madison Square Garden in the 1930's; on the eve of World War II, only baseball was a more popular spectator sport than track racing.  (Interestingly, the third-most popular sport was soccer, which drew its players from the same demographic groups as bicycle racing.)

Six-day racers during the 1930's.  From Deadspin.

In another example of how the worlds of cycling and labor intersected  the six-day races actually prompted New York City and Chicago to pass laws forbidding cyclists from riding more than 12 hours a day.  Six-day racing was a dangerous sport, and the fans couldn't get enough of it.  

Even during the "dark ages" of US cycling--the two decades or so years following World War II--Labor Day races were held in a number of places across the United States, though mainly in the Northeast and Upper Midwest, and on the West Coast.  

To The Lighthouse

Today, Millie had her annual Labor Day barbecue.

That meant, of course, that I had to pre-emptively burn off some calories.  What better way than an early ride?

The bike lanes along the East River seemed utterly bucolic in the absence of about half of this city's population.  Best of all, I found myself cycling across the bridge to Roosevelt Island with other cyclists--and no motor vehicles--for company.  

If the lanes on the Queens side of the river seemed peaceful, the island felt like a sleepy fishing village.  I even used a lighthouse as a landmark for my ride!

Of course, one needs a lamp like the one in the photo to as a reminder that, after all, it's still an urban setting.  Plus, I suppose that a spot like that can be lonely sometimes.  

Somehow the light of the partly-cloudy late-summer sky seemed to guide me to them.

Both Of My Cats Were Rescued. So....

Max and Marley, my beloved felines, were both rescued from the streets.  And I've been known to salvage copies of classic volumes from hostile surroundings. 

So I should rescue a bike, right?  Or should I?

Well, I did pick up a pretty beat-up--but rather nice--frame.  And I've got some parts, and access to others. 

Temptation....


(Note:  The frame I've "rescued" is not the one in the photo. After I decide what to do with my new acquisition, I'll write a post that will include an image of it.)

Surf's Up: Ride Your Bike, Dude!

The past few days are the longest I've gone without posting in quite some time.  Part of the reason for that is that the semester started this week.  And, at the same time, I found myself teaching French to an FBI agent.   That's a story--a happy one--unto itself!

Today I finally got out for a ride.  It wasn't very long, by my standards:  to Rockaway Beach.  It seems that every year I see more surfers there.  And, for about the past year or two, I've seen surfers ride bicycles to the beach.

What that means is that more surfers are carrying their boards on their bikes.  I have never done anything like that myself, so perhaps it;s not surprising that, until recently, I couldn't understand how one would.  I suppose that if I'd spent more time in, say, California or Hawaii, I'd have a better idea of how such things done.  Can you imagine what Dutch cyclists would come up with if more of them surfed?

I've seen a few  bikes with "sidecars" for their 'boards:

This setup reminds me of what a fisherman rigged to his bike so he could carry his poles, buckets and other gear:

Clever as those setups are, I don't think either of them has anything on the way this board is hooked up to its bike:

From The Surfing Blog

All of these 'maritime mules are homemade or made by very small operations.  I wonder whether there'enough of a market for Burley or some other manufacturer of bicycle trailers to consider making them. 

Or...I could just imagine what the Cannondale Bugger might have looked like had it been designed by surfers!

Original Cannondale "Bugger," circa 1972

A Crash I Just Missed

I had just pedaled up the ramp on the Manhattan side of the Queensborough (a.k.a 59th Street) Bridge.  Two men and a woman, abreast each other,  spread themselves across the pedestrian side and into the side marked for bikes of the bike/pedestrian lane.  One of the men was stretching and craning his neck to snap photos of the city's skyline and the Roosevelt Island finiculaire; the other man and the woman were neither doing nor paying attention to anything in particular.  

As I had pedaled up the ramp from a dead stop at the bottom (courtesy of a man who was texting somebody and crossed into my path), I was riding slowly.  From the opposite direction, three young-looking, lycra-clad young men pedalled and spun at a much faster speed.  Still, I figured I had enough time and space to pedal around the photographer and his friends and that, by the time the three young cyclists were ready to ride around them, I would be well past the midpoint of the bridge.

My highly unscientific calculations proved to be entirely correct.  I was well past the photographer and his friends when the young male cyclists rode around them.  And I probably never would have thought about them, or the photographer and his mates, again.

But then I heard the thumping, clanging and clattering of metal and human flesh colliding as if sucked into a vortex or carbon fiber.  The cyclists were a few wheel lengths past the photographer and his travelling companions, but I don't think they had anything to do with the pileup.  To their credit, the male friend helped the cyclists--who didn't seem to be hurt--up.  I did a U-turn (fortunately, no other cyclists were approaching from either direction) and went to see whether the cyclists needed any help.  Two declined, and thanked me for my offer.  But the other, upon seeing that his bike was wrecked (It was carbon fiber.), punched and kicked the fence on the side of the bridge, picked up his bike and flung it. I got out of his way.

The bridge's lane is just barely wide enough for a couple of pedestrians walking abreast and a cyclist riding alone or in single file.  Plus, parts of the paving have been torn away (It's supposed to be re-paved), leaving half the width of the lane unusable for a significant part of the path's length.  That, at a time when more people are walking and pedaling across the bridge than perhaps at any time in its history.

Twenty-Five Years After We Stopped A Bike Ban

Twenty-five years ago this summer, cyclists in New York City staged a rebellion.

In a way, that such a thing would take place in the august days of the Reagan Administration seems ironic.  Then again ACT UP held its first demonstrations that year, and the following year,a riot in Tompkins Square Park rocked the city.

The difference between those demonstrations and the ones cyclists staged during the summer of 1987 is that the latter seemed, on its face, even more improbable than the other two.  By the time ACT UP first met, large numbers of gay men had organized, politically and socially, in response to the AIDS epidemic, which would wipe out whole blocks of San Francisco and downtown Manhattan.  Meanwhile, residents of the neighborhood around the park agreed that the park had become a de facto homeless shelter and a haven for drug dealers, vagrants and loud musicians who had no other venue.  Those residents were deeply divided over what had to be done.  But after the city instuted a 1 am curfew, nearly everyone agreed that officers of the NYPD's Ninth Precinct routinely overstepped their boundaries and, in some cases, committed outright assault and battery.

In contrast, cyclists in New York were scarcely organized at all, save for whatever club affiliations they may have had. Least organized of all were the bike messengers, who were an even larger presence on the city's streets than they are now.  As great as their numbers were, they had absolutely no political clout because nearly all of them were poor (as I was, several years earlier, when I turned to that line of work) and some were homeless.  It wasn't a job for the hipster-equivalents of that time; rather, as one of my colleagues in that business said, we were "the rejects of society," whether or not through our own doing.

Why am I mentioning that?  Well, the impetus for that summer's demonstrations was an action then-Mayor Edward Koch (after whom the Queensborough Bridge is now named) aimed squarely at the messengers.   On 22 July of that year, Hizzoner stood on the steps of City Hall to announce a ban on bicycling in an area of Midtown bounded by 59th and 31st Streets, on the north and south, respectively, and by Park and Fifth Avenues on the east and west.  The ban would take effect six weeks later, in early September, after the signs had been posted and legal niceties dispensed with.

What is truly remarkable is that cyclists who weren't messengers--and people who weren't cyclists at all--actually expressed outrage at the proposed ban.  New York cyclists who weren't messengers weren't nearly as numerous or diverse in those days; to see as many of them unite with messengers--with whom they had almost nothing in common aside from the fact that they pedaled astride two wheels--caused even media outlets like the New York Post, which did much to foment anti-bike hysteria, to take notice,and even to portray messengers' routes as "the sweatshops of the street."

For the next few weeks, hundreds of cyclists--I was among them on a couple of occasions--gathered at around 5:30 pm (just after most messengers' workdays ended, spread across Sixth Avenue and paraded from Houston Street to Central Park, a distance of about three miles.  We pedaled at a snails' pace--about five mph (eight kph) so that passerby could look at us and walkers, joggers and runners could join us. We stopped at red lights and let pedestrians cross in front of us, which showed that we were "friendly" and prevented the police from using the pretext of "blocking traffic" to bust our permit-less rides.  

During that long, hot summer, there were other actions, such as the time when cyclists wended through the East 40s and 50s on foot to show how the ban could lead to pedestrian gridlock.  It had another effect: It mixed gritty messengers with, not only other kinds of cyclists, but with executives in bespoke suits on their way to lunch meetings in posh restaurants.  This increased understanding of, if not sympathy for, cyclists:  While tension between messengers and cabdrivers has never entirely abated, at least they started to see each other as fellow "working stiffs", which helped to create support for safer conditions for cyclists and better working conditions for messengers.

I can't help but to think that the contact between cyclists and non-cyclists led to public denunciations of the ban, which the New York State Supreme Court invalidated on a technicality (The city hadn't published official notice.) for an additional 45 days.  That meant the ban couldn't take effect until mid-October.  At that point, Mayor Koch, who prided himself on his taste for a good fight, threw in the towel.

It will be interesting to see what future historians and biographers say (if, indeed, they say anything at all) about this episode of the Koch regime--and cycling in New York City.  A bas l'interdiction!