A Journey

Just recently, I came across this e-mail I sent a few friends.  I couldn't believe I still had it in an old e-mail account that I now use for school.

18 november 2006

 Hi Everybody:

 No urgent messages here. This'll be more like a blog, I guess, or a journal entry. Read on at your own peril! ;-)

 Today I went for a bike ride with Barbara and Sue, who have become sometime riding buddies during the past couple of years. It was chilly, overcast and fairly breezy, but actually not a bad day to ride.  We may not see any better for a while, so we went.

 We started on the Queens side of the 59th Street Bridge, with no particular destination in mind. I don't know which, if any, of us was leading the way, but we found ourselves headed toward water: Jamaica Bay and the ocean. It was as if currents of the sky, gray and rippled by white crests of clouds, pulled us there.

 Our bikes zigged and jagged along boards that clunked and chattered underneath us on the Rockaway Boardwalk. Sky and ocean grew grayer, bluer and steelier all at once as foamy white ripples thickened.

 We crossed the bridge into Atlantic Beach, Nassau County, where both the fresh-faced and the weathered people wore down parkas with swim trunks and flip-flops. Sand swirled on the road toward Point Lookout--on the other side of the bay from Jones Beach--where we had a picnic lunch.

 Since we all did errands this morning, we didn't meet for our ride until well after noon. Of course, we didn't take into account how the days are growing shorter, so by the time we got to Point Lookout, we saw rays of a sun that was about to set peeking through furtive openings in the clouds.

 And everything grew darker as we rode back along the southern Atlantic shores of Nassau County, the Rockaways section of Queens, Sheepshead Bay and ultimately to Coney Island. The point at which the sea and sky disappear into each other grew closer and the tides amplified their echoes as their foam crests grew whiter like advancing glaciers.

 There was a time in my life--actually, most of my life--when a scene like this was my only solace. The day returned to the sea; the night spread across it, punctuated by the pulse of waves that reflected flashes from the moon and stars. I often went to the sea, alone, in the darkness. Sometimes I hoped not to come back; other times I had some vague, if entirely implausible, hope that fluidity and darkness would wash away what I was trying to leave and change.

 Somehow, though, it didn't seem so odd to be at the darkening sea with a couple of friends. In a sense, I was never actually alone, even in the days when I was traveling solo. When I first started my gender transition, I used to believe that for all those years, the boy and young man I had been was carrying the person I'm becoming within him, all the while hoping nobody would notice. I suppose that is what would sometimes cause me to sometimes grieve about Nick when I first began to live as Justine. I used to think that he'd been carrying me all this time, and somehow it wasn't fair that I was able to experience the joy that he never could.

 But now I realize that in some way, I, Justine, had been guiding and protecting him. And I was again today. Today I would show that scared, confused, angry teenaged boy and young man named Nick--whom I learned to love only by becoming Justine--that what we were seeing today was not all there is to life, that we were continuing on a journey and that it would be all right and neither of us would have to be alone.

 Of course I didn't tell any of this to Sue or Barbara, for I am just realizing it now. But I did tell them what a joy it is to ride with them, and apologized for not being in the kind of shape I was once in and for being something of a chatterbox.  Don't worry, they said. It's all fine.

 Yes, Justine, it's all fine. And it's going to be all right. For you, too, Nick.

 OK. I apologize if this is a bit of a ramble. I know you're all busy, and I appreciate you, whether or not you've read this far.

 Good night.
 

 Love and best,

Justine

A Century After The Storm

I'd forgotten about Daylight Savings Time. So that, of course, meant I'd slept an hour later than I thought.

Then I realized I'd have another hour of daylight at the end of yesterday.  Plus, something about yesterday's noon light seemed very appealing.  What I didn't realize, then, was that it reflected some light I would see later in the day.

I also thought that going for a daylong ride (or, at least one of more than a couple of hours) would help to shake me out of the emotional funk and physical lethargy that enveloped me.  I was, as they say, sick and tired of being sick and tired.  

So--you guessed it--I got on my bike.  I think Max and Marley knew I was going to be gone for a while because I left extra servings of food and water for them.  

Anyway, I took out Tosca, figuring that if I rode for only two hours or so, I'd at least get a good workout.  That's one reason I recommend having a fixed-gear bike:  If you're pressed for time, you can still get in a pretty vigorous ride.

I started in the direction of Rockaway Beach.  I hadn't been there since the first Sunday of January.  It was a little more than two months since Superstorm Sandy; the streets still looked like sections of the Ho Chi Minh trail after the bombings and people still seemed shell-shocked.  I'd heard that there was still much devastation, but I was determined to ride out that way.

Well, as the day was breezy and chilly, but still quite pleasant, after crossing the bridge into the Rockaways, I wanted to keep on riding.  And so I did--alongside the sections of the boardwalk the storm tore away, past stores that still haven't opened and houses still vacant.  But some people, at least, seemed to be taking Sunday afternoon walks and otherwise taking back what they'd owned in their lives.  That may have been the reason why I just wanted to keep on riding.  

And I kept on riding, until I got to Point Lookout.

That meant I'd already done the second-longest ride I've done so far this year, and the third-longest since Sandy.  I felt invigorated, to say the least:  I pedaled into a breeze-bordering-on-a-wind most of the way out.

You'll notice that Tosca is standing aslant.  She's not "posing"; it was the only way I could stand her up.  As I expected, the tides had tossed rocks and slates into positions in which no one had seen them before.  And there was a lot of erosion:

That mushroom-shaped thing is an Army Corps of Engineers marker.  In the two decades or so in which I've been riding to Point Lookout, it was always level with the ground and usually dusted with sand.

The bay loooked as it usually does, if a bit more forlorn:

I know they're buoys, but a part of me wondered whether they weren't markers for something lost during the storm.

I also couldn't help but to wonder whether those trees were denuded by the season or the storm.  After all, it happened in late October, right about the time leaves attain, or start to pass, the peak of their autumnal color in these parts.

Even in the middle of such musings, I didn't feel sad.  After all, everything and everybody I'd seen during my ride was a survivor.  Plus, the light wind into which I'd pedaled would blow at my back as I started my return ride.  I felt stronger,and the ride seemed quicker.

And, by the time I got to Far Rockaway, the sea and sky refracted a layer of visual frost through the late-afternoon sun.

It was, I realized, a later-day image of what I'd seen when I left my apartment just after noon.

By the time I got home, I'd pedaled my first metric century (about 105 km, or 65 miles) this year, and my first since Superstorm Sandy.  

If Keith Bontrager Went Dutch

Keith Bontrager once said that everyone who builds or designs bikes, or parts and accessories, should spend a year in the Netherlands.

I can't help but to wonder what my Race-Lite would have been like had he followed his own advice.  I liked it a lot; I sold it only because I'd stopped mountain biking and wanted  it to have a good home, if you will.

In fact, I wonder what all of his parts--especially his wheels--would have been like.  To his credit, his designs were functional:  He had no concern for fads or trends, and he cared nothing for aesthetics (though some of his stuff is very attractive).  Also, he had no interest in, as he said, making "lifestyle" products and had no intention of releasing a line of leisure wear with his name on it.

In some weird way, I think the mountain bike maven from Santa Cruz, CA would have been right at home in this milieu:

Cyclists Cause Pollution

I hate to break this to all of you "tree-huggers":  We are polluting the air, after all, when we ride our bicycles.

Oh, but it gets worse:  the more and harder we ride, the more we fill the atmosphere with a toxin--namely, carbon dioxide.

From The Ottawa Citizen

Now, I'll admit that I haven't taken a science class since, well, before some of you were born.  But the notion that we are fouling the air when we pedal and puff is at least factually and etymologically true--at least in the same sense as another statement made by no less of an environmental scientist than Ronald Reagan.  Back in 1981, he said, "Trees cause more pollution than automobiles do."

Would you expect any less from the man who appointed James G. Watt as his Secretary of the Interior?  

Apparently, Washington State Representative Ed Orcutt learned his science from Professor Ronnie.  Hey, if I had science professors like him, I'd be nominated for a Nobel Prize.  In what, I don't know.

But I digress.  The Hon. Rep. Orcutt revealed his epoch-making discovery about cyclists to a bike shop owner during a campaign for a proposal to charge a $25 fee on bicycles costing more than $500.  That fee would help to pay for transportation facilities.  

Orcutt has since apologized for his remarks.  However, the furor over his remarks remains.

For me, learning of this story has had at least one good outcome: I found it on the BicycleLaw.com webpage.  I'll be visiting it from now on.

Dear Motorist: Why We Are In "Your" Lane

Last week, I was riding down Second Avenue in Manhattan.  I'd stopped at 37th Street, where traffic exits the Queens-Midtown Tunnel.  Even the most steel-nerved messengers can't cross that steady stream of cars, taxis, SUVs and livery vans without having green signal or being waved through by a traffic cop.

One of those cops, a young African-American with a boyish face, approached me.  "Miss!"  You're supposed to ride in the bike lane."  He pointed across the avenue to it.  "You'll be much safer there."

As I was focused on getting through that bottleneck--Below 34th Street, there's usually much less traffic on Second--I didn't argue with him.  I've "educated" more than a few police officers and other people in my time; some were receptive but others became more adamant in their assertion that if there is a lane, a cyclist must use it--or, worse,that bikes simply don't belong on the street at all.  

So, I crossed over to the lane and, after I passed the last clump of traffic at NYU Medical Center, I moved back into the traffic lane.

I hadn't been riding that line before I saw the cop because the section of it just below the Queensborough (59th Street) Bridge, which I rode into Manhattan, was blocked off.  And, when it opened again somewhere around 52nd Street, it didn't appear to be in very good condition.  In the last couple of years, there has been a lot of coonstruction along Second, where a new subway line is being built.

Poor surface conditions are just one reason why some of us don't use the bike lanes, at least some of the time.  I found this list of other reasons on NYC Bike Commuter:

The bottom line, dear motorist, is that we are in "your" lane because it's often safer for both us and you to be there.  In their infinite wisdom, the designers of lanes next curbs have--probably unwittingly--made things less safe for you as well as for us.  

Mondonico Criterium: A Beginning And An End

From looking at this blog and my bikes, you have probably figured out that my favorite color is purple.

Today, I'm going to write about my first purple bike.

From what I'm told, Antonio Mondonico himself built this bike back in 1992.  I got new around Christmas of that year.  At that time, many of the Italian "master" builders like Mondonico and Colnago were still building their own bikes, though some were raced with the names of teams or sponsors on them.

This was the fourth Italian bike I owned, if I recall correctly.  Although I went through a period in which I would ride nothing but Italian bikes (the Mondonico was part of it), I was never entirely convinced of the Italian mystique, though the bikes I had were quite good.

There were two ways in which this bike stood out from the other Italian bikes I've owned and ridden.  One of them is in the finish and details.  Some Italian bikes were quite pretty; others were garish (like the Gios, in my opinion) and others simply gaudy.  My Mondonico was, I thought, distinctive and surprisingly crisp for a purple Italian bike.  The lugwork was very sharp-edged, and the outlines were clear.  And, the paint was not only pretty; it seemed to hold up better than the paint on other Italian bikes I had.

The other way this bike distinguished itself--from my other Italian bikes (and, for that matter, other bikes I've owned) is in its handling.  If I'm not mistaken, it had slightly steeper angles than other road bikes I've owned.  In fact, its geometry was remarkably similar to a track bike I would acquire about a year after I got the Mondonico.  A post about that bike is coming soon.

Its geometry meant that this bike was intended for criteriums: the sorts of races in which large numbers of riders pedal through a short course of closed-off city streets.  The length of the race is usually determined by the number of laps or the time; in either event, a "crit" typically lasts an hour or less.  

The Mondonico had what one might expect of such a bike:  quick acceleration and snappy handling.  I used to have a lot of fun riding it in Prospect and Central Parks (where I raced it a few times), and on similar kinds of courses. However, it wasn't the most comfortable of bikes on longer rides, even after I changed the seatpost to one with more setback than the one I originally had and fiddled with the saddle position.

Also, the Mondonico was a smaller size (53.5 cm, if I recall correctly) than my previous racing bikes, as I wanted a shorter top tube.  However, I think using a longer seat post than I used on previous bikes exacerbated the strain the steep seat angle created on my thigh and shin ligaments.  That would also be part of the reason why I would sell this bike after about three and a half years, when I realized that criterium-type races would never be the "main event" of my cycling life.

One other way which this bike is noteworthy, at least for me, is that while it was my first purple bike, it was also the last I rode with tubular (sew-up) tires.  In addition to the sew-ups, I had a set of clinchers for this bike; they were the wheels I rode most of the time.  When I sold the Mondonico, I also sold my last pair of tubular wheels and tires.

Cycling Humor

I've been under the weather lately.  It's not the flu, even though I haven't had a flu shot in several years.  (The last time I got one, I got the flu anyway.)  Rather, it's a respiratory infection.  My lungs and airways are clearer than they were a week ago, but I've still been very tired.  What that's meant is that, beyond commuting and some errands, I   haven't been riding.

Needless to say, I'm not happy about it.  But, in researching something else entirely, I stumbled over this webpage: "Cycling Humor".


This particular post really made me laugh:

"A Concerned Cyclist"

Dear Abby,

I’ve never written to you before, but I really need your advice. I have suspected for some time now that my wife is cheating on me. I see the usual signals; the phone rings and when I answer, the caller hangs up. My wife has been going out with ‘the girls’ a lot lately, although when I ask for their names she says, “just some friends from work, you don’t know them.” I try to stay awake to see when she comes home, but I always fall asleep. I think deep down, I just didn’t want to know the truth.

Last night she went out again and I decided to really check on her.  Around midnight, I decided to hide in the garage behind my road and mountain bikes so I could get a good view of the street when she arrived home from her night out with ‘the girls’.  When she got out of the car, she was buttoning up her blouse, which was open. She took her panties out of her purse and slipped them on. It was at that very moment, crouching behind my bike, I noticed a slight crack in the downtube, two inches behind the headset. Is this something I can fix myself, or should I take it back to the bike shop?

– Concerned Cyclist


Now, if writing a letter like that isn't a sign of a bike geek, I don't know what is!

The Wooden '90's

Until the 1950's, track racers commonly used wooden rims.  They are still made today by Cherchi Ghisallo in Italy.  However, they are not allowed in races because, while they are light and give a comfortable ride, they can shatter upon impact and release a cloud of sharp, jagged projectiles.  

There are a few enthusiasts who will ride nothing but wooden rims.  Those cyclists feel that the increased cost and maintenance, as well as the fragility, of those rims is worth the improved comfort and performance.  They can only be ridden with tubular (sew-up) tires and without rim brakes.

What even many of those wooden-rim enthusiasts don't realize is that at the turn from the 19th to the 20th Centuries, entire bicycles were made of wood. Well, the frames and the parts that didn't have bearings were, anyway.  I understand that some of those bikes even had wooden saddles!

Now Ojira Yoshima, a student in the Craft & Industrial Design department of Musashino Art University in Tokyo, has revived and updated the concept:

I find it interesting that his frame design is at least somewhat similar to that of Softride bikes of the 1990's. He designed his wheels like the Tri-Spoke wheels made by Spinergy, Zipp and other companies during that same period. The aerobars could also have come from the Indie Rock era.

I wonder what the ride is like.  

My First "Real" Bike: Peugeot PX-10

The other day, I wrote about my Peugeot U0-8, which became my first "fixie."  Now I'm going to write about another Peugeot I owned, which I didn't alter nearly as drastically.

When I bought my Schwinn Continental, I saw a Peugeot PX-10 in the shop.  I looked at its price tag:  $250 seemed like sheer insanity for a bike to someone who'd saved the $96 cost of the Schwinn from a year of delivering newspapers in the hinterlands of New Jersey.

Somehow, though, I knew I was going to end up with that bike.  As I wheeled my Continental out of the showroom of Michael's Bicycle Company (located next to a drive-in theater on Route 35 in Hazlet, NJ),  I could feel the bike bug embedding its tentacles into my shins.

Well, about three years later, I got a PX-10 for $250--used.  And it was three years older than the one I saw in the showroom.

It seems that almost everyone who came of age during the '70's Bike Boom rode a PX-10 at some point or another.  For many of us, it was our first real racing bike:  Bernard Thevenet won the 1975 and 1977 Tours de France on PX-10s that differed from the ones we bought only in that the stems and handlebars were changed to fit his physique.

Also, the great Eddy Merckx began his professional career astride a PX-10 for the BP-Peugeot team in the mid-1960's.

Although $250 seemed like a lot of money for a bike in 1972 (and was probably even more so in 1969, when the PX-10 I bought was built), it was actually quite a good value.  First of all, the frame was built from Reynolds 531 tubing with Nervex lugs.  While the level of finesse in the lugwork and paint wasn't up to what one would find on a bike from a French constructeur or a classic British builder, it was nothing to be ashamed of.   

The chainstays, clearances and fork rake were all considerably longer than what would be found on later racing bikes.  However, racing bikes at that time had to be more versatile, as roads, particularly in small towns and rural areas of Europe, were rougher:  Some still hadn't been repaired after the bombings and shellings of World War II.  Also, racers and trainers at the time believed that a rider should spend as much time as possible on the bike he plans to use in upcoming races.  They also believed that, at least for road racing, outdoor training was superior to indoor, so the bikes were ridden all year long.  They--yes, even Merckx himself--rode with fenders and wider tires during the winter.

The longer geometry and rather thin stays meant that while the frame gave a lively ride, it could be "whippy," especially for a heavy rider, in the rear.  The flip-side of that, of course, was that the PX-10 gave a stable and comfortable ride in a variety of conditions.  This is one reason why many PX-10s were re-purposed as light touring bikes, or even outfitted (as Sheldon Brown's was) with an internally-geared hub and used for commuting.

The components that came with the bike were not top-shelf, but were at least good for their time.  The best of them, aside from the Brooks Professional saddle (Yes, it was original equipment on mine, though some PX-10s came with Ideale 90 saddles.) was probably the Stronglight 93 (63 on some earlier models) crankset.  It was beautifully polished and could be outfitted with chainrings from 37 to 57 teeth.  Mine came with 45 and 52, like most PX-10s of the era.  The 93 was a light, stiff crankset:  When I later got a Campagnolo Record for another bike, I couldn't detect any difference in rigidity.  The only problem with the 93 or 63 was that it had a proprietary bolt circle diameter that wasn't compatible with Campagnolo or other high-end cranksets of the time. These days, if you need to replace a chainring on your 93 or 63, you have to go to a swap meet--or eBay.

The wheels were also of very good quality:  Normandy Luxe Competition hubs with Mavic tubular rims (Some PX-10s came with Super Champion tubulars, which were equal in quality.) laced with Robergel spokes, the best available at the time.  Of course, I would build another set of wheels--clinchers--on which I would do the majority of my riding.



I rode many happy hours and kilometers (Hey, it was a French bike!) on my PX-10.  Like many other cyclists, I "graduated" to a more modern racing bike, and a touring bike and sold the PX-10.  Still, it holds a special place in my cycling life as my first high-performance bike.

Nominated For The Liebster Award

All of this work (ha, ha) might make me rich and famous after all.

I've been nominated for an award!  Yes, an award:  the Liebster.  I thank The Accidental Environmentalist for that.

Here are the rules for the Liebster Award:

1. Each blogger should post 11 random facts about themselves.
2. Answer the questions the tagger has set for you, then create 11 new questions for the bloggers you pass the award to.
3. Choose 11 new bloggers (with less than 200 followers) to pass the award to and link them in your post.
4. Go to their page and tell them about the award.
5. No tag backs.

OK, so here are some random facts about me:

1.  I was originally named after my father.

2.  My mother and I have nearly identical tastes in food.

3.  I have taught in a yeshiva.

4.  I attended Catholic school.

5.  At the age of three, I rode my tricycle down the stairs to the basement of the apartment building where I was living with Mom and Dad.  I still have a scar from it.

6.  I have dated two women who were born on Christmas Eve, and two others who were born on Ground Hog Day.  I dated a man born on 15 April (tax day in the US) and another born on Veterans'/Armistice Day.

7.  I was born on the Fourth of July.  And, no, I'm not related to Bruce Springsteen, though I went to high school with his cousin.

8.  My favorite Shakespeare plays are The Tempest, Othello and Macbeth.

9.  I have slept in graveyards--twice, both times during cycling trips.


10.  I didn't touch a computer until I was 41 years old.

11.  My mother would have named me "Justine" had I been born a girl.


Now, here are The Accidental Environmentalist's questions and my answers:

1.  How long have you been blogging?--Four years, seven months:  I began in July, 2008 with "Transwoman Times".

2.  If we had a third party in the United States, which would it be?--One that could become the first or second party.

3.  Dr. Pepper or Mr. Pibb?--I don't know about Mr. Pibb, and I've never liked Dr. Pepper.

4.  What is your favorite bird?--Cardinal

5.  What sport do you watch or participate in most regularly?--Bicycling

6.  When you decide to splurge, what do you spend money on?--Accessories, for myself and my bike

7.  What is your favorite junk food?--Tortilla chips with melted cheese

8.  What was your favorite vacation spot ever?--The Pyrenees

9.  What is your favorite amusement park ride?--I don't know. I haven't gone to a amusement park in a long time.

10. Do you have pets and if so, what pets do you have?--Two cats, named Max and Marley.  They're both rescue cats. 

11.  What era of U.S. history would you most want to be a part?--The 1920's. It seems that there was so much going on in the arts, sports and in science at that time.  I would be part of the 1930's, too, if I didn't have to be poor or unemployed.

And now, my nominees:

Bike Bliss

Biking In Heels

Citizen Rider

Cycling Art Blog 

DFW Point To Point

Educated & Poor 

Fragmentos do Cotidiano

Girls And Bicycles

Like It Or Not: Ted Burke

Might As Well Suffer

Urban Adventure League

Remember, nominations are limited to blogs with 200 or fewer followers.  So, if your blog isn't on this list, it's not because I don't read or like it.

Anyway, you might want to check out the ones I've listed, if you haven't already!

For my nominees/victims, here are my questions:

1.  What is the best or most meaningful gift you ever received?

2.  What was the best-received gift you ever gave anybody?

3.  What historical figure would you be most interested in meeting?

4.  If you were a country, which one would it be?

5.  Was there any part of your schooling (elementary, secondary, university, vocational) that you especially liked or disliked?  Why?

6.  Think of all of the places in which you've ever lived, or visited. Which is your favorite?  If you had one day to spend there, what would you do?

7.  Have you ever Googled the name of someone you hadn't thought about in years?  If so, did the results surprise you?

8.   If you had the opportunity to become the President of the United States or the Pope, would you take it?  Why or why not?

9.   What is the most surprising or unexpected thing anybody could learn about you?

10.  If you could bring five books with you to a desert island, what would they be?  What else would you bring?

11.  Butter pecan, cherry vanilla, rocky road, pistachio or chocolate chocolate chip?