Les Alpes Maritimes Sur Flushing Bay

Last night the temperature dropped below 10F for the first time in two years.  When I left my place, it was 12F, and the wind-chill was below zero.

So I did took the most sensible route for today's commute:  the one that takes me along the water.

For a moment, I actually envisioned myself among the snow-capped peaks of the Alps.  I rode up mountains (Avoriaz, Galibier and Colle d'Agnello/Col d'Agnell) whose roads were banked by snow--and whose peaks were covered them--when the weather was warm enough to ride comfortably in shorts and a cycling jersey. 

Today's weather, of course, was nothing like that.  However, I didn't have to do any climbing.  Along the Cote d'Azur and in Liguria, the mountains tumble all the way to the sea.  People who've spent their entire lives in this part of the world probably cannot imagine such a coastline.

This is probably the closest they'll come to seeing anything like it:

 

Just Vera, The Red Allez And An Old Mountain Bike

Today we had the coldest weather we've had in two years.  Last night it got down to 15F; the weather forecasters say that it may drop to 10F or below tonight.

One way you know we're having a real winter is to look at the bike racks where I work:

The only bikes parked there are Vera, the red Allez that's been there seemingly every day and an old Fuji mountain bike.

Are they ridden by hardy souls or addled minds? Now there's a question for a campus debate!

21 January 2013

They Should've Been Riding Bikes

Yesterday I wrote about the Long Island Motor Parkway, which, in its history, has been one of America's first race courses and one of its first automotive expressways--and would become of the last bike lanes to open in New York for nearly half a century.  Now it's a segment of what is supposed to become the Brooklyn-Queens Greenway.

So, perhaps, there was some weird sort of synchronicity, or whatever you want to call it, at work when I found this image on one of my favorite non-bike blogs, Old Picture of the Day:

20 January 2013

Riding An Early Race Course

Believe it or not, this was once an automobile race course.

It was also one of America's first expressways.  At least, it was one of the first roads to be designed so that drivers wouldn't have to stop for traffic lights, railroad crossings or many of the other things they'd have to contend with on conventional roadways.

Of course, when it was serving the functions I described, it didn't have all of the trees and other vegetation growing on its sides.  That was allowed after the road became a bike/pedestrian path.

Yes, the path in the photo was once part of the Long Island Motor Parkway, which I mentioned in an earlier post.  Now it's a segment of the planned Brooklyn-Queens Greenway.

I don't know whether storm damage has been cleared, or whether there wasn't much of it on the path.  Running through the middle of Queens, it's several miles from either the north or south shores and, I would assume, out of the path of a storm surge.

Here the former Parkway takes a turn underneath the expressway--the Northern State Parkway--that rendered it obsolete for automotive use.

When it carried automobile traffic, the Parkway had  several "toll lodges". (Don't you just love that term?)  One of them now serves as a Parks Department facility in Cunningham Park:

Tosca was clearly enjoying the ride, as I was:

19 January 2013

The Current State Of My Bicycle Commuting

From Bike Commuters

This post is a response to a comment Kiyomi made on "The States of Bicycle Commuting."

About ten years ago, I would have turned my nose up at any bike with upright bars.  In fact, about the only kind of bike I'd ride without dropped bars was a mountain bike: I was a fairly active off-road rider and sometimes commuted on off-road bikes.  

I also wouldn't have been caught dead on a bike with an internally geared or coaster brake hub, a steel frame that wasn't chrome-moly (i.e., Tange, Ishiwata or Columbus) or maganese-moly (Reynolds or Vitus) tubing.  And I certainly would not have tainted any of my bikes with--gasp!--a kickstand.

Now, the latter accessory simply couldn't have fit on some of the racing bikes I've had.  But even on the bikes I've had with more relaxed geometry (my off-road, touring and cyclo-cross bikes), there would have been a practical reason not to have a kickstand:  It might not have been a good idea to clamp one onto such bikes, which tend to have thinner tubing than more utilitarian machines.

But, over the past decade or so, my life changed in a few ways.  Some of them had to do, of course, with my gender transition.  When I started, I wanted a women's or mixte bike because, well, they were "women's" bikes.  (At no point, though, did I consider giving up my diamond-framed bikes.) Also, I wanted to continue riding to work. In the old days, I used to ride in bike shorts or tights and jerseys/jackets because I didn't want to ride in anything else.  Sometimes I would ride in a pair of khaki or corduroy trousers, depending on the weather, and a button-down shirt to which I could add a tie, vest or jacket (I used to keep those things at work) as needed. I also used to keep a pair of shoes, in case I was too lazy to carry, or forgot, a pair into which I could change from my bike shoes.  

When I started living and working as female, though, I found that I had to be better-dressed than I was when I worked as a male.  (Truthfully, I also wanted to dress better:  In those days, I was still experimenting with different looks).  That meant more time to get dressed.  Also, I'd begun to wear make-up, and I was starting to take more care of my hair.  So, making myself "presentable" for work was taking me at least twice as long as it did when I was working as Nick.

Also, in those days, I would sometimes shower and change in the men's locker room before starting work. Of course, once I started my transition, that was not an option.  I wouldn't have wanted to do that, anyway--I never liked being naked (and vulnerable) in a men's environment.  

As buoyant as I felt when I started my transition, I still wasn't quite ready to change in a women's locker room. I take that back:  If anything, I wanted to shower and get dressed among other women.  But I hadn't yet had my surgery--it would be several years away--and I wasn't ready to deal with the possible repercussions of being met by campus security officers if someone who objected to my being there called them.  

So, I wanted to ride in more or less the same clothes in which I worked.  I was willing to bring a change of shoes, and maybe an accessory or two as well as a couple of cosmetic items. But I didn't want to go through the intricacies of having to, essentially, make myself over once I got to work.

It was around that time that women's and mixte frames started to appeal to me. Some of the commuters I rode in days past were equipped with fenders, usually because I added them.  So fenders were nothing new to me; however, they had more appeal to me when I stared to ride in skirts or even women's pants (which, I found, were more delicate and soiled more easily than men's pants).  I also started to appreciate chainguards.


I also rode a couple of bikes with internally-geared hubs.  Even though I had a three-speed in my pre-adolescent years, I couldn't quite cotton to one--or to a five- or seven-speed internally geared hub. They felt clumsy and inefficient compared to hubs with cassettes, freewheels or fixed cogs.  Plus, at least one never quite shifted right, in spite of the efforts of three mechanics whose work I've always trusted.  

So now I'm commuting on Vera, a Mercian mixte with a lively, pleasant ride. Just for the heck of it, I've ridden her in shorts and enjoyed it, but I can wear just about anything short of a wedding gown (which I don't plan on wearing) and not have to worry about ruining my clothes or being constricted.  

I had been riding her with an upright bar that's a bit like a flipped-over North Road bar. But over the past few months, I've been riding her with a Velo Orange Porteur bar, on which I'm not quite as bent over as I am with my dropped bars, but not quite as upright as on, say, a Raleigh three-speed.  

If you're used to riding lightweight bikes with dropped bars, or even mountain bikes with flat bars, the best way to get a commuter, I think, is to find a bike that has a geometry and ride that's at least somewhat like a bike you currently ride and to change the handlebars and seat, unless the geometry of the bike is such that it will not ride well with those changes.  

18 January 2013

Another Forerunner To A Shimano "Innovation"

For today's post, I'm going to engage in a bit of bike geekery, as I did in yesterday's post.  Fear not:  This will not be a regular feature of Midlife Cycling.  At least, I don't intend it to be.

As I did in yesterday's post, I'm going to write about a long-forgotten component that featured a design used in later, more successful (at least commercially) bike parts.

From the 1920's until the 1970's, many British bikes featured Williams cranks, chanrings and bottom brackets.  That is not surprising when you consider that those parts were, like the bikes, made in England.  

As Steve Griffiths notes in "Classic Lightweights," Williams has been unfairly judged on the basis of its lowest-quality--and, unfortunately, most commonly-used--model, the C34.  It was a cottered steel crankset, and the arms (or spider) onto which the chainrings mounted was swaged (forced).  Willliams also make much nicer models,including some of those thin,elegant cranks you see on British bikes from the 1960's and earlier.  

But their best crankset--and the only cotterless crankset made in any significant quantity in England--was the AB 77. I have seen one of them in my entire life: on a Claud Butler that came into the first shop in which I worked.  

The AB77 was actually quite nice:  the quality of the materials, machining and finish were high.  It had the same chainring design as the TA Cyclotouriste, Stronglight 49D and the Nervar crank that aped them.  That meant the AB77, like those other cranks, could be set up as a road double with a 42 tooth small chainring  or as a triple with a 26-tooth inner ring.  

But the most interesting part of the AB77 was its bottom bracket.  Presaging a trend by two decades, its axle had a splined rather than square end.  In other words, it was a proto-Octalink or ISIS bottom bracket.  

Unfortunately, that bottom bracket was its fatal flaw.  During the period when the AB77 was produced (1962-mid 1970's), only one other crank had such a design.  It was made by Gnutti in Italy and its splines were of a different pattern from Williams', so the two could not be interchanged.  That was especially unfortunate for Williams, because the bottom bracket, which was made by T.D.C. (once a major manufacturer or headsets and freewheels), didn't last very long. 

When Shimano decided to resurrect this long-forgotten idea during the 1990's, it made the splines broader, which was supposed to increase the stiffness as well as the lifespan of the bottom bracket.  However, they, like their TDC/Williams predecessor, wore out quickly.  The problem with the Shimano splined brackets--and the similar, though not interchangeable, ISIS-pattern bottom brackets made by other companies--had narrower axles and smaller bearings than their square-ended counterparts.  Interestingly, Shimano's Octalink and other companies' ISIS bottom brackets had an even shorter run--not much more than half a decade--than the ones from TDC/Williams.  

A few years after Williams ceased production of the AB77, they were taken over by Nicklin,one of their former competitors, which offered only the C34 and a couple of other low-priced models that were fitted to mass-market bikes from Raleigh, Dawes and other manufacturers.  As production of such bikes ended, so did most of the British cycle-component industry, including Nicklin/Williams.  

17 January 2013

Pivotal Brakes

Sometimes, when I surf the web, I am swept into a stream of flotsam from bikes past.

Here is an example of what I mean:

Photo by berangberang

If you ride road bikes, something about this brake may seem familiar to you.  And well it should.

It was made by Altenberger in the German Federal Republic (West Germany to us Americans) during the 1970's.  I started working in bike shops during that time, and some bikes--mainly lower-priced ones with upright handlebars--came with that brake.

It's the ancestor of brakes found on nearly every road bike built since the mid-1990's.  Why?  Take a look at those bolts with the red nylon washers.  They make it a dual-pivot brake.  While they may not have been the original of the genre, they were the first dual-pivots to appear on any significant numbers of bikes.

They were supposed to provide the simplicity and light weight of sidepulls but the "symmetry" and modulation of centerpulls.  Unfortunately, Altenberger's brake didn't exhibit any of those qualities.  I think that it had to do with the fact that the arm with the cable anchor bolt usually overlapped the pivot on the other arm, as you see in the photo.  That eliminated whatever "symmetry" the brake may have been designed to have, and made for very uneven braking.

Perhaps even more to the point, the brake was not of very good quality.  The metal used in the arms was pretty flexy. (The fact that the arms were long didn't help matters.)  The rather flimsy spring would lose its springiness fairly quickly, which further diminished the brake's power and modulation.

After Altenberger stopped making this brake (or went out of business altogether:  I don't recall seeing very many of the company's brakes after the early '80's or so), Weinmann produced a similar model, which they called the "Synchron".  Its quality and aesthetics were better than those of the Altenberger, but, like its predecessor, the Synchron never synchronized very well and got worse over time.

So, when Shimano came out with their own version of the dual-pivot brakes, I cringed.  Younger cyclists didn't have memories of the earlier dual-pivot brakes, so they were enthusiastic about this new "innovation".  I refrained from them for a few years until someone with whom I shared, at that time, a similar riding style and whose ideas I respected convinced me to try a pair of the Shimano 600/Ultegra dual-pivots.  Although I was, at first, put off by their gray epoxy finish as I was by the fact they were dual-pivots, I became a convert.  Shimano figured out how to actually make the arms work in harmony and used better quality materials than the ones found in the Altenberger or Synchron.  Even the lower-priced Tektros, not to mention the higher-end Mavic and Campagnolo Record and Chorus 

dual-pivot brakes, are worlds better than those early attempts to combine the advantages and eliminate the weaknesses of center- and side-pull brakes found on ten-speeds of the 1970's and earlier.

16 January 2013

The States Of Bicycle Commuting

How many people commute on bicycles in your state?  And, how does your state compare to others in that category?

If you're dying to know the answers to such questions, check this out:


Click image to open interactive version (via BikeGuard).

This interactive graphic comes from a page hosted by  My Asset Tag.(It also hosts Bike Guard.)


Which state would you expect to have the highest percentage of its population commuting by bike?  Oregon?  Wisconsin?  Massachusetts?  Washington?

If you picked "Washington," your answer is incomplete.  Think of the other part:  D.C.  Yes, the District of Columbia has the highest proportion of bike commuters.

Not surprisingly, most of the low-ranked states are in the South (e.g., Louisiana, Mississippi and Kentucky).  It's also no surprise that Oregon ranks second.  However, I didn't expect to see Alaska in third place---or my home state, New York, squarely in the middle at #25.  Then again, there are vast areas of upstate where people don't ride much at all.  

Where does your state stand?

15 January 2013

Lance And Oprah

This morning, while doing my stretches and getting dressed for work, I was listening to the news.

I heard what I'm sure you've all heard by now:  Lance Armstrong, in an interview with Oprah Winfrey, has admitted to using banned substances.

To me, it's interesting that Winfrey said he "did not come clean in the manner I expected".  Of course, I won't know what she meant by that until I see the interview.  She said he "was ready" and "met the moment."

Now, I have to wonder what made him "ready" for a "confession".  And why did it take an interview with Oprah for him to "come clean".

While I am willing--however reluctantly--to believe his confession and guilt, I find it interesting, to say the least, that it's taken so long for anyone to establish his guilt. It seems that athletes in other sports--baseball in particular-- who were using banned substances were found out more quickly than Lance was.   

On the other hand, I don't think I have to wonder why there was so much more pressure on him to confess than there has been for other cyclists.  The first five-time winner of the Tour De France, Jacques Anquetil, once said something to the effect that nobody ever won the Tour on salad and mineral water.  

Other cyclists have admitted that doping was rampant in the sport.  But, none of them won the Tour seven times.  And none of them was American.   What's more, none of them did it the way Lance did it: He concentrated on winning the tour to the exclusion of many other races, including classics like Paris-Nice.  That is in marked contrast to riders like Eddy Mercx and Bernard Hinault who, between them, won about 400 more races than Armstrong did.

Plus, he managed to rankle other cyclists, including his teammates, in ways that no other winner did.  To be sure, they all provoked envy among the riders they defeated, and the ones who served as domestiques on their teams.  But, as fiercely competitive as they were on their bikes, they were gentlemen off their bikes.  Armstrong, from what I've heard and read, was cocky and often arrogant.  Now, I'm not saying that's a good reason to accuse him or to get him to confess.  But I think that other cyclists, as well as the sport's officials, wanted to see him brought down in ways they never wanted to see their old heroes dethroned.

Whatever their motives for bringing Lance to "justice", and whatever his motives for confessing, this is still a very sad time for the sport.  After all, he is one of the few larger-than-life personalities the sport has produced.  Other cyclists, like the ones I've mentioned and Miguel Indurain, were lionized for their athletic prowess.  But even Indurain himself admitted he wasn't much of a story when he wasn't pedaling.  As he once told a journalist, "My hobby is sleeping." 


I believe that the sport will continue even after Lance has been, in effect, excommunicated from it.  But it won't be the same.    About the only person who will benefit, I think, is Oprah.  To be exact, her network will benefit. After all, some people will look for it on their cable boxes for the first time.  

14 January 2013

Just Another Beautiful Bike Photo

Trust me:  I have absolutely no intention of encroaching on the wonderful work the author of Cycling Art Blog does.

However, I'll admit that this post is just an excuse to post another lovely bicycle (another great blog I'm not trying to usurp) photo I found on the internet.

I couldn't find any credits for it. If it's yours, let  me know and you'll be duly acknowledged.

 

13 January 2013

Charlie, One Year Later

Today was mild for this time of year.  Although it didn't rain, or even drizzle, the air felt damp, as it has since the rain we got the other afternoon and night.

It actually wasn't a bad day to ride, in my book.  It's nice to ride on overcast days sometimes: I have fair skin, so a lot of time in the sun tires me out as well as leaves me at risk for sunburn and other things.  Still, I was feeling sad.  

While riding, I saw one of those billboard signs that shows the time, temperature and date.  I then realized why my mood was darker than the sky:  Today is the 13th.  

Last year, this date fell on a Friday.  Now, I'm not normally superstitious, so Friday the 13th doesn't mean much to me. But I recall the one that came in January of last year for one reason:  Charlie died.

Although Marley is adorable and sweet, he can't replace Charlie.  I didn't expect that he would; he just happened to come into my life a little less than two months after I lost Charlie.  Max took to him very quickly; he was always a very affectionate cat.  But Max, like Charlie, was with me during a very special time in my life:  my transition and surgery.  One simply can't replace the kind of relationship one had with an animal during a time like that.  

At least Max is still here and will be for years to come.  And, I believe, Marley is special in his own way, and I am developing a relationship with him that's different from the one I have with Max, or the ones I had with Charlie or the other cats who came before him.  Needless to say, it's also different from the relationships I have, and have had, with people in my life.  I guess that was the point, at least for me, of taking Marley into my life.  That, and the fact that he's ridiculously cute.

12 January 2013

Out Of The Fold Of My Past

In an earlier post, I wrote about the Dahon Vitesse D5 on which I commuted for about a year and a half.  I think I gave the impression that it was the only folding or collapsible bike I've ever owned.  That's more or less true, if you don't count another one I owned for a few days.  

I was reminded of it when I came across this photo:

It's a Chiorda folding bicycle, just like the one I owned for a few days. It's even the same color, although--cosmetically, anyway--in slightly better condition than mine was.

I had an excuse for its rattiness: I found mine by the curb, next to some bags of trash.  For some reason I don't recall, I didn't ride my bike that day to visit a then-friend who was living in Jackson Heights.  I spotted the bike as I walked to the subway station.

But I didn't take the train home.  I walked the bike to a nearby gas station where I inflated the tires.  They held air long enough for me to ride the bike back to Brooklyn, where I lived at the time.

At that time, I'd ridden a few folding bikes, never for very long.  The Chiorda was about what I expected from such a bike.  Actually, I should qualify that statement:  It was about what I expected from a folding bike, but slightly better than what I expected from a Chiorda.

You see, I developed an early prejudice against the brand.  My first--and, for a long time, only--experiences with them came in the first bike shop in which I worked.  A nearby R&S Auto (Think of it as a low-rent version of Western Auto or Pep Boys.) sold Chiorda ten-speeds for $69.  The quality of the ones I saw ranged from ghastly to just plain scary.  I don't recall seeing one that didn't have a misaligned frame; some had bottom bracket threads that stripped when you removed the cups, rear brake bridges that broke off the stays and various other problems.  

At that time, bikes from Taiwan and Eastern Europe (except for the Czech-made Favorits) were considered the worst on the market; I think the Chiordas I saw were just as bad.  To be fair, though, any of those bikes was better than the Indian three-speeds I fixed.  And, I would learn that Felice Gimondi actually won the Tour de France on a Chiorda--though not, of course, the one I found or the ones I'd worked on.

But my ingrained prejudice prevailed. Even though the treasure I found in the trash was better than I thought it would be,  I didn't expect to keep it.  One day, a few days after I found it, I took it out for a spin.  I stopped at a greengrocer, where I encountered a sometime riding buddy and local mechanic.  He actually wanted the bike--for his girlfriend.

I guess I can understand why he wanted it for her:  Even if it wasn't the greatest bike, it was kinda cute.  So, for that matter, was she.  He was, too.  I haven't heard from him in years.  Now I wonder whether she still has that bike--or him.

11 January 2013

A Rainy Commute Home

This evening I could have used one of these:

From eta

Actually, I did have raingear for my ride home.  It hadn't rained on my way to work, but the weather forecasters promised rain for the afternoon and evening.  

I managed to stay pretty comfortable throughout the ride.  The only problem was that it was dreary:  If someone wanted an image of what it's like to fall into a depression, tonight's ride home could have provided it.  It was almost, but not quite cold enough to snow.  Hard, real rain fell:  not  a drizzle that fizzles as it reaches the ground and simmers softly around the halos of streetlights.  And, this is the time of year when houses are still decorated for Christmas because people haven't yet managed to take down lights they are no longer turning on.  

To paraphrase Wallace Stevens, I may just be the sort of woman who prefers a drizzle in San Francisco to a downpour in Corona.  

10 January 2013

When Is It Too Cold To Ride?

Isn't it too cold for you to ride?

How many times have you heard that?  It seems that even in the mildest of winters--like the one we had last year--someone asks that question whenever I'm on my bike, or look as if I've been on it.

What I find interesting is that some of the cities with the largest contingents of year-round cyclists--and the best infrastructures for cycling--experience more intense cold and get much more snow than New York ever has. Such a city is Montreal, where a cyclist took a video of the winter commute I posted last week. 

Other such cities include Oulu, Finland and Umea (Sorry, I couldn't get the little circle over the "a" !) in Sweden, where the weather doesn't seem to deter these cyclists:

From Copenhagenize

Don't you just love the light in that photo?  '

We haven't had any snow in these parts, so I have to content myself with views like these when I start my commute home:

09 January 2013

Bicycles On The 14th Day Of Christmas

I hereby declare today the 14th Day of Christmas. 

Why?, you ask.  Well, for one reason and one reason alone:  so I can post another Christmas bike photo.

Actually, it's not technically a Christmas bike photo.  At least, it's not intended as such.  But it's hard to deny the austere, if stark, northern Yule beauty of this Negatone image, which was taken on the main campus of the University of Michigan by "Image MD".

08 January 2013

Object Of Curiosity

Have you ever seen a bike parked somewhere, day after day, and wondered about its owner?

I guess I'm weird that way.  Sometimes a bicycle (or, for that matter, some other object) will catch my attention and I'll start to imagine some detail or another about the person who owns it.

Ever since the fall semester began, I've seen this rig on the campus bike rack:

A bike in a color like that is pretty hard to miss.  It's also a pretty good bike:  a Specialized Allez.  However, it's not terribly remarkable, as it's one of the most common racing bikes today.

But seeing it parked in that very same spot on the rack every day has got me to musing about its owner.  Does he or she come to school before everybody else just to get that spot?  A student or faculty member?  Or a staff member, perhaps--in administration? Does its owner race or take long rides?  

And, of course, there's this question:  From whence does its owner ride?  What route does he or she take?

For all I know, it may belong to someone who lives down the block.  Or, perhaps, it might be ridden by someone whose commute puts mine to shame.

07 January 2013

A Real Snowbike

So far, this winter hasn't brought much snow up this way.  However, we still have a couple of months to go.  You never know what can happen.

That's the reason why you never know whether you'll need this bike:

From Steve In A Speedo

The fellow who posted the photo uses the bike to train for triathlons.  Seriously, he does triathlons and lives  in Minnesota.  Maybe he's using that rear wheel to grind the grain he'll use to make one of his training foods.

06 January 2013

A Long Way Ahead

No, I didn't enlist.  That photo wasn't taken in any sort of official combat zone.  Rather, I snapped it while riding Rockaway Boulevard in Rockaway Beach.

It might be the roughest paved cycling surface I've encountered in an industrialized country.  That's not surprising, given that Rockaway Beach was one of the areas that incurred the most destruction from Superstorm Sandy.

I rode along the Atlantic shore of southern Queens and Nassau County to Long Beach.  There, as in most of the Rockaways, the storm destroyed most of the boardwalk so that the only things remaining are the pilings over which it stretched.  Yesterday, construction crews began to take down the remaining wood, most of which looked something like this:

Some people were taking boards from it--as souvenirs, I guess.  (I wonder whether they'll end up on eBay.)  Others seemed to have other motives in going to the beach.

Was this man enjoying the solitude, feeling resigned to his fate or trying to come to terms with his grief?

Whatever he was feeling, he and the couple may have to follow the same path for the foreseeable future.

05 January 2013

The End Of A Winter Day

I didn't get to do a real ride today--just a spin to Astoria Park and a yogurt run.  However, I got home in time to witness a near-perfect ending to a winter day:

At least, it's about as close to perfect any day's end can be in these parts.  As the sun descended, a mist of wispy cirrus clouds rose from the horizon to a deep translucent blue sky:  a dream ahead, and a vision above, this day's ride.

04 January 2013

A Devil Of A Commute In The City Of Saints

Those of us who commute by bicycle during the winter take (justifiable, I believe) pride in pedaling through cold, wind and, in some cases, snow.

I respect any year-round cyclist in any climate with variable seasons.  However, I'll admit to feeling a bit more hardcore than someone who rides year-round in, say, Portland or Los Angeles.  At the same time, I give "props" to year-round riders in Boston and points north, and in most European countries.

On the other hand, most of us have nothing on winter commuters in Montreal.  On one of my visits there, I read or heard that the 'burg Mark Twain dubbed "the city of a hundred bell towers" spends more on snow removal than any other city except Moscow.

Whether or not there's snow on the ground, it gets plenty cold in The City Of Saints.  One young man used a helmet cam to record his commute on a day when the mercury stood at -25C (-13F).  Here is the video he produced:

03 January 2013

Palais d'Hiver

This photo from Let's Go Ride A Bike made me think of something I wrote some years ago:

  Palais d'Hiver 

Wind:

    dry whispers

      in a house 

    where I

      no longer

    live. 

Seasonal Wisdom, Repeated

From Copenhagenize

Yesterday's commute may have been the coldest I've had in two years.  Or maybe it wasn't:  Last year's winter-that-wasn't may well have spoiled me so that a normal winter day seems absolutely frigid.

Anyway, when I got to work, I exchanged wishes for a happy new year with the office manager and secretary.  "You didn't ride your bike today?," they wondered in unison.

I nodded and grinned.  Then, the office manager, who is about ten years older, expressed her incomprehension that I wasn't wearing a long, heavy coat.  I explained that, underneath my silk jacket, I was wearing two other layers.  

In more than three decades of riding to work and/or school, I have seen increasing numbers of people do the same, and even ride for recreation or sport.  However, it seems that just as many people now as then share my coworkers' incredulity over the way we dress.

Sometimes I think that to be a cyclist, you have to be something of an educator as well.  That may not change any time soon and, if nothing else, I have something like the requisite skill set.

But I digress.  I have found that, even when I'm not cycling or engaging in other vigorous activity, dressing in layers makes more sense than wearing a heavy top coat although I occasionally sport the latter for purposes of fashion.  (Plus, it is easier to slip a wool overcoat than a cycling or ski jacket over a suit or dress!)  Even if I'm just taking a leisurely stroll or doing nothing more strenuous than climbing the stairs to a gallery, I prefer the freedom of movement--and the ability to add or remove articles of clothing as the temperature changes--afforded by layers of clothing.

I suspect that I will continue to have exchanges like the one I had yesterday for as long as I'm cycling in cold weather.  There are certainly more difficult and unpleasant tasks!

02 January 2013

No Longer A Prologue To The Automobile

When you get to be my age, the beginning of a new year becomes as much a time for reflecting on how things have changed during your life as for thinking about the time ahead.

I was reminded of that upon seeing this photo:

During my childhood, bike-makers often tried to emulate motorcycles and automobiles.  The irony is that the less race-worthy the bicycle, the its maker tried to evoke racing motorcycles or cars in the paint, graphics and other details of the bike.

One classic example of what I mean is the Raleigh Chopper:

The "spoiler" on the rear, the racing stripe on the seat and the lines of the frame--as well as the front wheel that's smaller than the rear--were taken from customized racing motorcycles that were popular for about a quarter-century after World War II.

Raleigh's machine, though, was a kind of "mixed metaphor", if you will.  While it was supposed to appeal to teenage boys' yearnings for the kinds of motorcycles they saw in movies like Easy Rider, this detail comes straight from the "muscle cars" of that era:

Could the size and location of that lever have anything to do with the decline in birth rates among baby boomers?

A decade or two before Raleigh started making "Choppers", Schwinn, Columbia and other American bicycle manufacturers built lights and horns into fake gas tanks attached to the tube.  

1934 Schwinn AeroCycle in the Longmont (CO) Museum and Cultural Center

It seemed that the main purpose of those "tanks" was to hold the batteries (usually 4 "D" cells) required to power the light and horn.  I'll admit, though, that on some bikes--like the Schwinn "AeroCycle" in the photo--they looked stylish, and even beautiful.

The reason why bikes, particularly those intended for boys, were styled after cars and motorcycles is that, in those days, bicycles were seen as stepping-stones to motorized vehicles.  When teenagers got their drivers' licenses, they passed their bikes on to younger siblings or other kids--or else the bikes were discarded.  

That view of bicycles started to change around the time I was entering my teen years.  While many of my peers would abandon cycling for years, or even forever, after getting their licenses, others started to see the bicycle as something other than a pre-motorcycle or pre-automobile.  They continued to ride, if less regularly, after they began to drive.  And, of course, many would bring their bicycles with them to the colleges they attended, as cycling is often more convenient than driving on and around campuses.

Also, by that time, adults were starting to take up cycling.  A few went as far as to live car-free lives.  Such riders were, of course, not interested in bicycles that looked (and, in some cases, rode) like motorcycles or cars without engines.  Some were not interested in aesthetics at all, while others (including yours truly) would come to appreciate the cleaner and more elegant lines of lightweight bicycles.  

Now I see that those old cruisers and Choppers have become "hip" in certain circles, and that Schwinn, Raleigh and other companies are making modern replicas of them.  However, people--even pre-teen boys--don't view them in quite the same way as kids in my time saw the originals of those bikes.  Somehow I don't think kids today see themselves as "graduating" to an automobile from one of those bikes; if anything, I guess that they see it as a cool toy or accessory, or as their means of transportation.  And they know that they can choose to continue riding bicycles as adults.  Almost none of my peers thought that way when I was a child.  I don't think I did, either.

01 January 2013

A New Bike For The New Year

On my first foray outside my apartment this year, I saw a bike I'd never before seen:

On first glance, it seems like a typical European city bike.  But a few interesting details caught my eye.

The "strings" of the skirt guard are in a color meant, I think, to match the frame, which is a fairly muted shade of chartreuse.  However, the color brightened, almost to the point of being a neon shade, in those strands.

Could it be that this green bike is solar?  

The hub is a three-speed coaster brake model from, I believe, Sachs.  That company's coaster brake hub is now, of course, manufactured by Velosteel in the Czech Republic.  

Now, I'm going to test your knowledge of old European city bikes.  Can you guess what this is?

Here's a hint:

On the fork is a light or generator bracket commonly found on European city bikes as well as some of the old English three-speeds.  The hole with the black plug on the down tube is a conduit for a wire.  I'm guessing that a generator mounted on the fork bracket and the wire ran inside the frame to a taillight.   Said generator and tail light are absent:  The bike's owner had a modern " blinky" attached to the rear and a modern battery-powered headlight attached to the handlebar.

According to the head badge and a label on the seat tube, this bike was manufactured in West Germany--which, of course, automatically makes it at least two decades old.  I wonder, though, whether "Air Wing" was a bike brand intended for the German market, or whether it was meant for English-speaking countries.  If the latter were the case, it would be very interesting, as few bikes like it found their way to the US--or, I imagine, England or Australia.