The Ultimate Rain Gear?

Rain began to fall just as I locked my bike to one of the campus bike racks.

It seems that all week, I have been playing chicken with the rain.  The other day, I ran headlong into a line of showers when I took the Trek on its first commute ride.  At least, today I was riding Arielle, with her full fenders and flap.

Days like this get me to thinking about what might be the best gear for biking in the rain.  Some might say I found it while web-surfing when I should have been doing other things:

From: Speed Studio Designs

Hmm...I guess it's not bad if you're not worried about aerodynamics.  Then again, why would you be?

When I first saw the illustration, I thought someone had crossed a motor scooter with a golf cart.  Come to think of it, someone may have done just that.  Or, if no one has, I may have given someone a ridiculous idea.

Judging from the illustration, the bike shield looks only slightly larger than my first helmet!

 

 

A Reflection On My Treks Past

The bike I rode yesterday is the third Trek I've owned.

So, naturally, I got to thinking about the other two.

My first Trek was also the first "pure" racing bike I owned.  It might well have the tightest geometry of any road bike I've ever had.

The Trek 930 frame was made from 1977 until 1981.  Mine, I believe, was from 1979 and was made by master frame builder Tim Isaac, who began building frames for Trek that year.  

The 930--which should not be confused with a singletrack mountain bike bearing the same numerical designation, which Trek offered during the 1990's--was a classic lugged bike constructed from Columbus SL tubing.  (The larger sizes used the slightly thicker-walled Columbus SP.)  The one in the photo is the same size as mine was:  a 56cm seat tube.  But, like other racing bikes of the time, it came with a top tube of the same size as the seat tube.  That meant I had to ride with a short-reach stem, which made the steering less than optimal.

But the bike could accelerate, thanks to its short chainstays and wheelbase.  Being young and full of testosterone (and other substances), I could blast that thing on the flats.  Oddly, though, it didn't climb quite as well as some other bikes I've had, including ones with longer wheelbases and chainstays.

And there is one other difference between my 930 and the one in the photo:  Mine was black.  However, it had the same style of lettering you see in the image, and, unlike some other Treks, didn't have a contrasting-color band.  I equipped it with a mixture of racing components, a tan Ideale 2002 saddle and red handlebar wrap and cable housings.

Trek 930 with period components--except for the seat, of course.

I bought the frame while I was working at Highland Park Cyclery. If I remember correctly, I took that frame in lieu of three or four days' pay.  Later, I acquired my second Trek in a similar way.

That frame, a 1982 Trek 510, became the bike I would ride on my second European tour, which took me from Rome and up the coast of Italy into France.  If you have, or have ridden, a Rivendell Rambouillet, you have an idea of what that bike was like.  In the 1970's and 1980's, a number of bike companies offered bikes like it, which were called "sport tourers."  As you might have guessed, their geometry wasn't as tight as that of a racing bike, but it didn't have the "lumber wagon" dimensions of many touring bikes.  It's the sort of bike you could take on a quick training ride, or to which you could attach a rack and panniers for a short or light tour.  

The bike had a longer wheelbase and chainstays than the 930, although it was the same size.  Strangely, though, it had a top tube of the same length.  But I didn't mind riding a short-reach stem on the 510 as much as I did on the 930 because I often rode the 510 with a handlebar bag.

It was constructed of Ishiwata 022. I don't know whether Ishiwata tubing is still made, but a number of bike builders were building some nice frames from it.  Like Tange tubing, it was made in Japan and was a chrome-molybdenum steel.

My 510 came in the same colors--a burgundyish red with a silver/grey band on the seat post--at the one in the photo.  However, I didn't use yellow accessories:  My water bottle cage, like the rack I installed on it, was silver.  And I rode it with a tan leather saddle and brown leather handlebar tape--from Cannondale, I believe.

I actually got it after I'd "officially" stopped working at Highland Park.  However, Frank, the then-owner, let me work a couple of days to pay for it.  I think it was a "leftover" from the previous year that he wanted to move.

For about a year, I owned both the 930 and 510.  Then I sold the 930 so I could buy "the bike of the future."  But that's a story for another post.

Taking The Trek To Work

Today I commuted on the Trek 560 I just built.

In a way, I picked one of the worst possible days to ride it.  When I started, the day was cloudy.  The weather forecasters hinted at a chance of rain.  But I figured I'd get to work before the precip. 

We all know how such plans work out--especially when you're riding a bike without fenders.  I didn't mind the bike getting cruddy--after all, the paint is pretty rough on the frame.  

When weather reporters say "passing showers", what they really mean is that you  are passing through the showers.  Such was the case for me today:  I think that once the showers came, they stayed.  I'm the one who had to pass.

Oh well.  At least I know two things:  The tires (Panaracer Ribmos) grip well.  And using a coaster brake on a rain- (and, in stretches, oil-) slicked street is another skill I'll have to master if I'm going to keep the bike as it is.

One thing that worked surprisingly well was the Nelson Longflap bag on the rear.  For one thing, as this frame is larger than the others I own, there is less seatpost protruding from it than on my other bikes.  So I wasn't sure whether there would be enough room to mount the bag and fill it without it rubbing against the tire.  And I don't have any kind of rack or bag support on the bike.

Because of the bike's geometry and the saddle position, the bag mounts almost horizontally, so that the flap opens almost at the rear.  (Rivendell's Sackville saddle bags seem to be designed to work that way.)  So, I put my U-lock in the "bottom" (the back, if the bag were mounted vertically) of the compartment.  It acted as a reinforcement that kept the bag from sagging--just enough.  On top of it, I stacked folders with students' papers, books, lunch, my purse and a pair of dress shoes.

The bag stayed put.  And, although the bike felt a bit squirrelly in the rear, it was still more stable than I expected it to be with the load, which the frame--at least in terms of geometry-- is not designed to handle.

If I were to commute regularly on this bike, I'd probaby install some sort of rack or bag support.  And, although the coaster brake itself is unaffected by the weather, I'm not so sure it'd be my first choice on a regular commuter.  I don't know whether this is a common trait of coaster brakes, but when I stop, sometimes I have to pedal about half a rotation "in neutral" before I can accelerate the bike.  It's similar to what happens when you shift a three-speed into the nether zone between gears, or when it's out of adjustment.  Plus, using handbrakes is more of a natural reflex for me than kicking back to brake.

Anyway, taking the Trek to work was an interesting experience.  I might try it again--on a day when there aren't "passing" showers!

 

WE Party In Williamsburg

If you're here in New York next Wednesday, you'll want to trek over to The Grand Victory in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.

There, at 7:00 pm on the 10th of October, the doors will open on WE Bike's end-of-season party.

Don't worry:  I won't do karaoke.  And I definitely won't take off my WE Bike T-shirt!

But I do promise a good time.  There will be live music, bike videos and hourly raffles, among other things.

And you'll get to meet all of the interesting women who are WE Bike.  

I've mentioned WE Bike in a previous post.  Briefly, it's a New York City-based bicycle group open to all women and transgender people who enjoy biking, or believe they might.   WE Bike seeks to break down barriers by offering social and training rides, and mechanics' workshops.  It also plans to offer scholarships.

You can learn more about it at www.facebook.com/WEBikeNYC.

Oh, and by the way, the cover charge is $8.00.  Not bad for a night out in Williamsburg, eh?

To A Rainbow: The First Ride Of A New Season

I know that autumn officially began a week and a day ago.  However, the ride I took today felt like the first of the season.

In part, it had to do with the weather:  The temperatures were almost exactly on target, maybe a couple of degrees cooler than normal.  The air had that cool crispness you normally associate with the season (at least in this part of the world).  But most telling was the particular kind of haze one sees in the distance at the seashore when clouds gather at this time of the year:

This is not the "hothouse" haze borne of humidity you can't escape on a summer day.  Nor is it the light, almost linen, haze you see on a mid- or late-spring day.  This is the kind of haze that brings colors into focus yet diffuses light.  If I were a painter or even a photographer, I would want to render the subtle differences in tones between these kinds of haze on my canvas, paper or screen.

As I started my ride home from Point Lookout, the sky quickly grew brighter, almost as if in a flash.  Then, almost as quickly, clouds gathered and grew darker and heavier than the ones in the first photo.  About half a mile from the Atlantic Beach Bridge, what I like to call a "Florida Shower" fell from the sky:  an intense rain that cut visibility to nearly zero--but, strangely, was not accompanied by thunder or lightning. Also, it wasn't steamy, as the ones in the Sunshine State usually are.  I took refuge under the awning of a church that, it seemed, had completed its services and breakfasts or lunches for the day.  

Within fifteen minutes, I was back on the road again.

Bikes Along The Way

On my way home today, I saw two interesting bikes.  Both are European.  I know that one is from the 1970's; I believe the other is.  Beyond that, though, they are interesting for very different reasons.

I espied the first one when I stopped in Greenpoint Bikes on Manhattan Avenue, near the Pulaski Bridge.  There I was greeted by a friendly young man who didn't mind my browsing or photographing this bike:

Actually, it's the bike in the middle.  As in many shops in the area, space is at a premium, so I didn't ask whether I (or he) could move the bikes, although I think he would have obliged me.

The green machine is a TMS.  At least, it's the only brand marking I could find.  The friendly young man believes it is German and from the 1970's, which makes sense, given what I know about such bikes.  The lugwork was clean and neat, and the paint well-applied in an attractive color scheme.  What really caught my eye, though was a particular detail:

It looked as though the white stripe was painted (or otherwise applied) to the fender at the factory.  That detail is even more striking, I think, on the rear fender:

The bike, as one might expect, is solid and sturdy, not light.  Those characteristics are typical of German bikes of that time:  They were well-made and often attractive, but utilitarian rather than sportive.

The second bike I saw, parked near PS 1,  clearly belongs to  the "sportive" category.  In fact, it was one of the better racing bikes available in its price range in the early to mid-1970's.  

If I'm not mistaken, it's a Gitane Tour de France from sometime around 1975 to 1978.  I make this judgment based on the paint finish and decals, which look original and are consistent with that time:

Also, the bike is made from Reynolds 531 tubing and has a Stronglight 93 cotterless crank, which was original equipment on that bike (as well as the Peugeot PX-!0E).  It was actually quite nice:  strong, brightly polished and lighter than even Campagnolo's offerings.

 (I apologize for this image and the others; I took them with my cell phone.)

One extremely interesting detail is the way the brake cable "tunnels" are brazed to the top tube:

On most bikes, the "tunnels" are brazed down the center (top) of the top tube.  However, Gitane brazed them to the right side, which allows for a more direct line to the brake (a Campagnolo sidepull).  Of course, the advantage of this would be lost if a brake that pulled on the right side, or a centerpull, were used.

The tunnels lead me to believe this is a later-production Tour de France, as the earlier-production TdFs use the clips you see on so many old racing bikes.

It seems that every time I ride through "Hipster Hook," I see more and more interesting bikes that aren't variations on the "hipster fixie."  And the area is about as rich in bike shops as any I've seen:  Within blocks of Greenpoint Bikes are about a half-dozen other shops, including B's Bikes, which has become one of my favorites.  Greenpoint looks very promising as well.  

Not so long ago, there weren't any bike shops in the area at all:  If you were to ride from Astoria to Brooklyn, you wouldn't see another shop until you got into the neighborhood around Pratt Institute, a distance of about seven miles.  And you wouldn't see very many cyclists. Now it's turning into Amsterdam on the Hudson.  It will be interesting to see what happens when those cyclists--most of whom are in their 20's or 30's age.  Will they stay in the neighborhood and continue to ride the bikes they have?  Or will they stop riding, or move?  Or will some as-yet-unenvisioned  type of bicycle be invented and sweep as-yet-unborn cyclists off their feet (or pedals)?  

Whatever happens, I expect to see more interesting bikes--and cyclists--along the way.

From Motor Parkway To Bike Lane

In France, I did most of my cycling on Routes Departmentales.  They are designated with "D" or "RD"  and a number on road signs and Michelin maps.

Route Departmentale 618 in the Pyrenees, which I cycled in 2000.

The Departmentales wend along rivers, climb mountains and transverse sunflower fields, vineyards and all manner of verdant landscapes and villages in every part of the country.  Most were built early in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries; a few were built by paving over roads that date to Roman times.  

They were constructed while bicycling enjoying enormous popularity and as the automobile was in its early stages of development.  As automobiles became more common (though still not as common as they were becoming in the US), a new system of roads--Routes Nationales--made their way through the country and connected the cities.  The Departmentales then fell into disuse in many areas.

A similar process occured during the 1950's and 1960's, when Autoroutes were built to connect the cities.  Then, even more Departmentales lost whatever traffic they previously had.

Although not intended as bicycle lanes,  Deparmentales became wonderful venues for two-wheeled travel through the French countryside.  In spite of how little traffic most of them see, they are remarkably well-maintained.  Many of them run more or less parallel to Nationales or even Autoroutes.  So, getting around is relatively easy, even for someone who is as navigationally-challenged as I am!

I was thinking of Departmentales when I came across this photo taken in July 1939:

No, they're not in the Dordogne.  They are commemorating the conversion of two and a half mile stretch of the Long Island Motor Parkway--which had been closed down three months earlier--into a bike lane.  

Financier and railroad mogul William K. Vanderbilt Jr. built the Parkway early in the 20th Century as a racecourse.  By World War I, it had been turned into a toll road used mainly by wealthy socialites en route to their weekend and vacation homes on eastern Long Island.  However, after the Northern State Parkway opened in 1929, it fell into disuse and was closed three months before a stretch of it re-opened as a bike path.  

In time, about eight miles (13 kilometers) of the Motor Parkway would re-open as a bike path. It's a very pleasant ride that meanders through some of the nicest parkland in eastern Queens.  I sometimes ride the westernmost part of it--which ends near the Kissena Velodrome--during my commutes.  

What made it an innovative road when it was built is also, in part, what makes it a nice bike lane now.  In addition to having lovely settings, the Parkway was one of the first concrete-paved roads in the United States (Asphalt was not yet in use.) and the first to use bridges and overpasses.

In an earlier post, I proposed turning the roadbeds of no-longer-used railroad tracks in Queens, and other parts of New York, into bike lanes.  Now I wonder whether there are some similarly-disused roadways that could also be converted.  I can just imagine pedaling through the urban, industrial and pastoral landscapes of New York, and the rest of the country, the way I cycled along the departmentales in the French countryside.

Verdant Verities And Vera

A few trees in this area--such as the ones I saw on the Canarsie Pier last week--have begun to change color.  A few leaves seem to have fallen, but most of the trees are still green and full.  

However, I noticed another kind of "fall" along the World's Fair Marina promenade as I cycled to work today:

A lot of branches have fallen--or, more precisely, were ripped and broken from their trunks--during the recent storms.  I saw some of the arboreal debris scattered across the path last week; now, it seems, they are being gathered.  In addition to what fell. other limbs have been cut from the trees because they were weak or ready to come off.

Soon these trees will be yellow, orange and red, then brown.  Then they'll be bare.  But one part of my commute will still be green:

Why do you think I call her Vera?  Well, to tell you the truth, the eponymous Pink Floyd song played while I was cleaning her up just after I first got her.  But, still, you have to admit it's an appropriate name--unless, of course, I decide to paint her.  

Two-Wheeled Leaders

Please don't take this post as a statement of my politics, or even on which lever I'll pull in November.

Now tell me, would you vote for this man?

He doesn't look half-bad on a bike, eh?

He is none other than current Republican nominee Mitt Romney. Here he's riding in France, where he was a Mormon missionary for two years.

Can you tell this guy lost?:

He might be a good rider. But he doesn't even have enough of a sense of style to be a Fred!

Whatever you think of his presidency, you have to admit that there's something very appealing about Jimmy Carter on a bike:

From what I understand, he's still an active cyclist at age 88.  I think he actually looks younger in this photo than he did on the day he left office 31 years ago!

Somehow it's hard to imagine this President as young, or even on a bicycle, but here's Nixon with his wife and daughter, about two decades before they moved into the White House:

I was surprised at how in-character this shot of George H.W. and Barbara Bush seemed:

Finally, here's a glimpse of Bill and Hill:

You can see more photos of Presidents and candidates on bicycles on this Daily Caller page.

Another Song At Sunset

This may not seem terribly bike-related, save for the fact that I saw it while riding by the pond in Prospect Park yesterday:

Somehow the loneliness of the long-distance runner doesn't seem so terrible.  In fact, it's quite beautiful, even in an image taken with a cell phone and my photographic skills!