Leaving The Field

Jurgen van den Broeck pulled out of the Tour de France yesterday, before the sixth stage.  The day before, he injured his knee in a pile-up just 200 meters before the end of the fifth stage.

Last year, he finished fourth, thanks due to good showings in the mountains and in time trials (his specialty).  Most analysts believed that had  an outside chance of winning the race.  

Interestingly, his first full season as a professional was the one that included Lance Armstrong's penultimate Tour victory in 2004.  He remained with the team for two more seasons and seems not to have been involved in the scandal that cost Lance his titles.

Here is van den Broeck in last year's Tour:

If he can ride through that, he can overcome his knee injury.  I wish him well.

A Parade of Bicycles for the Fourth of July

Today, in parades all over the nation, we will see bicycles decorated for the occasion.  Some are embodiments of patriotic fervor, like this bike:

From It's Overflowing

I'm not sure what brand it is, or whether it's even made in the US.  It has an American flag on its seat tube, but it looks new enough not to have been made here.  Still, it looks like an old American cruiser; it even has an Ashtabula crank--unlike the retro-repro models, which usually have cheap three-piece cotterless cranks.

But I'm not going to quibble.  For contrast, here's something with a more contemporary flair:

From Jersey Knitter

"Jersey Knitter" decorated those bikes a few years ago for the parade in the Garden State community of Montclair.  I would imagine that when those colors spin, the visual effect might be like a pinwheel firework.

In contrast to those examples of patriotic pedal power, here's a Dutch-style city bike decked out for the most American of holidays:

From  Detroit Mommies

In some weird way, this bike makes sense. If nothing else, the white bike makes a good "canvas", if you will, for the color palette.  Also, in a weird way, it makes sense historically.  After all, were it not for the Dutch (and French, Spanish and Poles), the American colonies might not have gained their independence from the British crown.  In fact, the Netherlands was the first nation to recognize the United States of America as a sovereign country.

Plus, the Dutch gave the world Mondrian. What would Look bicycles and the LaVie Claire team used for their logos if they didn't have Mondrian's compositions of lines and primary colors?

Rocket Bike

Pretty much all things that can be done--and a few things you wouldn't want to do--on a mountain bike have been done in Moab, Utah.

They include this Fourth of July celebration.  At least, I hope it was a Fourth of July celebration.  Otherwise. there are at least a couple of really crazy cyclists in the Colorado Plateau's  Mecca of Mountain Biking.

I Raced On This Bike: Colnago Arabesque

After reading some of my other posts, some might argue that the bike of which I'm going to write in this post is the best racing machine I ever owned or rode.

In future posts, I'll tell you why it wasn't--at least, not for me--and which bike was.  Still, it was a great bike and I sold it to buy my next racing bike (Mondonico) only because I thought it might be a better fit.

If I do say myself, though, it's hard to deny that my Colnago Arabesque was pretty, or at least had an interesting style. If nothing else, it didn't look just like other Italian racing bikes of its time.  Although it was essentially the same in geometry as the Colnago "Master", the Arabesque had a few nice touches the Master lacked:

Like my Mondonico, my Colnago Arabesque was constructed from Columbus SL tubing:  the lightest available from the company at that time.  Many other riders I knew, and rode against, at the time were convinced that bikes built from Columbus were stiffer than those made from Reynolds, Ishiwata, Tange or Vitus tubings.  That may well have been true, but I found that bikes with short wheelbases constructed from Columbus SL tubing gave a harsh enough ride that I might not have ridden as fast as I might have on, say, a Reynolds 531 or 753 bike. (853 wasn't yet available).

Plus, I have to say that while the bike's workmanship and finish were pretty good, they weren't quite up to the standards one might expect from other top-flight bikes. Given that the Colnago was my first elite-level Italian bike, I was surprised at how easily the paint chipped.

Still, I must say that the Colnago Arabesque was a fast bike and its harshness was mitigated at least somewhat by the tubular (sew-up) tires I usually rode on them.  Most high-pressure racing clinchers of the time rode harshly; tubulars were more resilient.  I used one of Vittoria's less expensive models for training rides on Mavic GP4 rims; for races and other fast rides, I rode some nice French Wolber "Course" or Czech Barum tires on Mavic GEL 330 rims.

Now, given the criticisms I've made of this bike, I still can't say that it's not the reason I wasn't a better racer!

I sold it to a guy who called himself Joneszy.  He was a bike mechanic who claimed that chrome-moly tubing was actually aluminum and called cogs "clogs".  Still, he knew enough to know that the Arabesque was a good fit for him, as he had a longer torso than mine.

I didn't see him again.  I didn't see the Arabesque for a few years until Tammy and I were walking along Flatbush Avenue near the Brooklyn Academy of Music.  A middle-aged black man stopped for a traffic light; his bike caught my eye.  Yes, it was my old Arabesque.

"You bought that from Joneszy, didn't you?"

"Yeah...How did you know?"

"I sold it to him."

Of course, he wanted to know how I knew it was the same bike. I pointed to a decal I placed on the downtube, just behind the head tube lug.  The paint chipped there; the silver and black decal--which came with someone's Huret Success titanium derailleur--was at least tasteful, and just big enough to cover the chip.

What were the chances of anyone else having a Colnago Arabesque with a Huret Success decal in the exact same spot?

By The Time We Got To Stonewall

You've all heard "Woodstock" by Crosby Stills Nash & Young.  If you haven't, you have 43 years of catching-up to do.

I'll bet that unless you're one of her fans, you probably didn't know that Joni Mitchell actually wrote the song.  She was going to perform it, but wasn't able to go to the festival.  So CSNY--who were performing only for the second time as a group--did it.

But I digress.  I was thinking about that song--and about Melanie's "Lay Down" when I took this photo with my cell phone:

Yes, I was in NYC Pride.  I marched with the Anti-Violence Project (and wore one of those T-shirts).  Near the end of the march, we passed the Stonewall Inn, where the events that made Pride possible took place on a hot early summer night in 1969.

It's the first time in four years--and since my surgery--that I've marched.  I normally don't care much for parades--as a marcher or spectator--but I make an exception for Pride.  And marching with the Anti-Violence Project was right for me:  I've been volunteering with them, and they (especially one counselor, "Miss Vicki" Cruz), have helped me to deal with the aftermath of a relationship.

After marching with AVP, I walked over to St. Luke In The Fields--only steps from the end of the march--for a picnic and Evensong. A contingent from the church--and the Episcopal diocese--promenaded down Christopher Street about three hours after AVP.

I don't know how many people marched or spectated, but I'd bet that number is much larger than that of those who performed at, and attended, Woodstock!  And, yes, we were strong and all the other things (except, perhaps, as full of drugs) as were those who went to Max Yasgur's farm to see and hear CSNY, Jimi Hendrix and all of those other legendary performers.

We got Lady Gaga and Edie Windsor.  While Edie's not a performer, she's one of our stars.  At least, she deserves the "star" treatment! 

Needless to say, I didn't do any bike-riding yesterday.  But, ironically, my AVP T-shirt had the same Citi logo as the Citibike program.

Pedaling In Protest

Last night,  I stayed out late, but with good reason.

I volunteered to help the Anti-Violence Project with its outreach.  That meant handing out cards with safety tips and "survival" packets (consisting of male and female condoms and cards with emergency phone numbers) in the Village.  I worked with two other volunteers--one male, the other female, but both named Dan--until about 10 pm.

At the end of our "shift", we came to the Stonewall Inn just in time for a commemoration of the historic event that made the bar famous.  On the night of 28 June 1969, cops showed  up to raid the place.  Such raids of gay bars, most of which were operated by the Mafia, were common in those days.  But on that particular night, bar patrons defied the police.  Several nights of rioting ensued.

In all of the photos I've seen from those demonstrations, I haven't seen anyone on a bicycle.  Admittedly, few adults cycled in New York--or just about anywhere in the US--in those days.  

Now, of course, it's common to see cyclists involved in public protests:  The Occupy demonstrations come to mind. I don't know when bicycles first became a regular feature of  street protests, but I suspect that moment may have come (at least in New York) in 1980.  Then, cyclists rallied to prevent then-Mayor Ed Koch from removing the bike lanes the city had only recently installed:

Hal Ruzal, the longtime mechanic of Bicycle Habitat (and the person who turned me on to Mercians) took this photo.  He and CHarlie McCorkle, the owner and founder of Habitat,  helped to organize those demonstrations.  In those days, the cycling community was smaller and, in many ways, tighter-knit than it is today.  

I wonder whether Charlie, Hal or any of those other cyclists (who comprised much of the early membership of a fledling organization called Transportation Alternatives) had any idea that they were changing the face of public gatherings.

Bicycles Make Sweden Green

The recent demonstrations in Turkey and Sweden--and the Occupy protests--got me to thinking about the roles bicycles (and cyclists) play in public demonstrations.

By chance, I stumbled over a website containing this:

From 591 Photography Blog

Now, if you've been reading this blog for a while, you know that I'd publish that photo just because of the chainguard on the bike in it!  But it has historical significance:  The bike and rider were part of a massive Stockholm demonstration in 1972.


Some argue that this demonstration is to the international "green" or environmental movement as the Stonewall Rebellion is to the LGBT rights movement.  Thousands of people--mostly young, mostly on or with bicycles--brought the city to a virtual standstill for several days in April.

For Love And Gear Shifting

In all of the time I worked in bike shops, I saw one of these derailleurs.  The other day, I actually saw a kid riding with one.  I didn't have the opportunity to photograph it.  But Michael Sweatman, the author of Disraeli Gears (worth the read even if you're not a "gear head"), did:

In the 1960's and 1970's. most childten's bikes,and many city/commuter bikes, had three- or four-speed rear freewheels.  So, a derailleur didn't need much capacity to shift reliably.  

It was for precisely such bikes that the SunTour Love was made.  

Usually, the derailleur was monted with the hanger-plate you see.  The effect is almost surreal:  The plate is about twice the sixe of the derailleur itself.

I never tried one, but I susupect it worked well on the bikes for which it was intended, as did nearly all SunTour derailleurs before the Trimec.

Can you imagine, though, being in the peloton with a derailleur (or any other part) called "Love"?

To The Airport

Today I rode Tosca to the airport.

No, I didn’t embark upon some exotic adventure.  I did nothing more, or less:  I rode to the airport.

 

 

Now, you might be wondering what kind of airport this is, or whether I’ve truly gone mad.  (A few people I know would argue that I can’t “go mad” because you can’t go to someplace where you already are.)  But, I assure you, I rode to an airport.

Unless you’re a fan of dirigibles, have flown private aircraft or know more about the history of aviation than anyone should (or you’re of a certain age), you’ve probably never heard of it.  Now I’ll assure you of something else: It’s just like most other airports in that it’s not located in the place for which it’s named.  Well, not exactly, anyway,

 

Flushing Airport is actually in a Queens neighborhood called College Point—which only briefly had an institution of post-secondary education anywhere within its environs.  The terminal opened in 1927 and, for the first decade of its existence, was the busiest airport in the New York Metropolitan Area.  Believe it or not, it actually had more competition than any area air terminal now has.

 

What most people don’t know is that Newark Airport opened only a year later than Flushing, and LaGuardia a decade after that.  (John F. Kennedy International Airport opened a decade after LaGuardia, under the name of Idlewild.)  And, around the same time that the first aircraft alighted from, and landed in, Flushing, Floyd Bennett Field and a few smaller air terminals opened. 

Like Flushing, most of those early airports are gone.  Floyd Bennett Field became the first Naval Air Station in the United States and, later,  part of the Gateway National Recreation Area and hosts a few bike races, rallies and rides for charity.  Others, like Flushing, are all but forgotten. 

After the first flights departed from, and arrived in, LaGuardia, Flushing served as a staging area for military flights.  After World War II, it served private aircraft as well as skywriters and blimps.

The airport was, unfortunately, the site of several accidents during the 1970’s, including one that killed the pilot and two passengers of a small private plane.  After those accidents, the Federal Aviation Administration determined that Flushing Airport was directly in the flight paths of LaGuardia, JFK and other airports.  (The government needed a study to learn that?)  Finally, in 1984, Flushing Airport was closed.  Even so, it still is listed on the registry of air terminals under the code FLU. 

Since its closure, Flushing Airport has reverted to the marshland it was.  (A creek bisects it.)  The main access road has been blocked off.

 

However, the parking lot is still in use, mainly by contractors. 

 

 

 

 

If nothing else, pedaling by the airport gave me one of the more interesting morning rides I’ve had.  In another irony, Flushing is less than two miles from LaGuardia “as the crow flies”.  Still, it takes about half an hour to drive—or pedal—from one to the other because the irregular shape of the Long Island Sound coastline renders a direct route impossible. 

 

 

 

Driving and pedaling between the two airports takes about the same amount of time because motor vehicles are relegated to the expressways, while cyclists can take a route that, as it turns out, is more direct, via side streets and the World’s Fair Marina promenade. 

Citibike: The New NIMBY?

It looks like Citibike is becoming a NIMBY issue.  

To the great surprise of media pundits (who are, or pretend to be, surprised by just about everything), rich people are getting Citibike kiosks moved away from their fancy buildings while the poor and downtrodden artists of SoHo and The Village are stuck with them.

Only a real-estate lawyer could make such an argument. (I don't think even Citibank's lawyers resort to such duplicity.)  The emphasis, of course, would be on the "lawyer" part:  Any real-estate person worthy of the name would realize that poor, starving artists haven't been in The Village since, say, about 1965 or in SoHo about fifteen years after that.  Even the ones who were starving artists when they moved into their tenements and lofts are probably living off their living spaces, which are worth millions of dollars.

One of the greatest ironies of this story is that it comes in the wake of hysteria about what the supposedly all-powerful "bike lobby" is foisting upon honest, hard-working citizens of this city.  If we are such a powerful lobby, why couldn't we stop Barry Diller and other mega-magnates from having bike stations moved away from their buildings?  I mean, if we're so powerful, why couldn't we prevail over Hasidic Jews who prevented the construction of bike lanes in their communities (South Williamsburg and Borough Park) because they claimed to be offended by scantily-clad female cyclists?

Oh--here's another irony:  A group of Hasidic Jews in Williamsburg has started a Facebook page to campaign for Citibike kiosks in their neighborhood.  Apparently, they recognize the benefits of cycling--for men, anyway--and realize that getting more people out of cars will mean more parking spaces for those who still drive.  Also, I suspect that some want to ride to school, work or whereever, but don't or can't own bicycles because they have large families and live in small houses or apartments.

Having spent a fair amount of time in Hasidic (and even Orthodox) neighborhoods, I can tell you that most are far from being wealthy, even if they own successful businesses or have well-paying positions.  If Steven Sladkus wants to stand up for the "little guy", he might start there.  Oh, and while he's at it, perhaps he can campaign to get Hasidic women on bikes.  After all, you don't have to wear lycra kit to ride a Citibike!