Late Fall Trail Ride

I was dragged kicking and screaming to the Internet.  Now look at me--I'm a blogger.  Still, I'm not a "first adapter" of technology:  I tend to stick with things that work for me until I have no other choice.

That means I probably won't ever ride with a webcam in my helmet.  Had such devices been available back in my off-road riding days--and I had been more of a technophile, I might have made a video like this:







Thanks to Ruben Guibert for this!

Ape Hanger Tandem

Here in New York City, it seems that every other bike shop employee is a musician.  One example--who just happens to be one of my favorite people in the bike world--is Hal Ruzal of Bicycle Habitat.

Another is a guy named Dave who works at Bike Stop, probably the closest shop (geographically, anyway) to me.

People often say that musicians are "different".  I agree.  Some who know me might say that I'm an example:  Long ago, in a distant galaxy (OK, in a different part of the world), I was a drummer in a punk band.  We never got beyond playing in some local bars and, to tell you the truth, we didn't aspire to much more.  Had we wanted wider audiences, we would have had to clean up our act and lyrics--and ourselves.

Anyway, I've often noticed that the bikes of musicians who work in bike shops are different from other people's.  (Are you surprised?)  Even by those standards, Dave's made me do a double-take:

Seeing a tandem here in NYC is notable enough:  I've only ridden them a couple of times, but enough to know that they're not easy to maneuver in traffic or store in many of the cubicles that pass for apartments in this town. I've also ridden bikes for two just enough to wonder how anyone could ride one with these bars:

Dave says he loves it.  Then again, he's a musician. I was once a drummer in a punk-rock band; some would argue that doesn't count.

The Wheels Of Time

By now, you're most likely familiar with Marcel Duchamp's "Bicycle Wheel."

Keep in mind that it dates back at least half a century.

If he were to assemble a similar kind of work today, would it look something like this?:

 

Among The Skyscrapers

Riding along the Hudson Greenway, I saw something from the corner of my eye.  No, it wasn't a creature in the river. As a Norwegian Cruise Lines ship ploughed through the choppy water, I spotted this equally-formidable vehicle across West Street:

Of course, I just had to take a look.  The handlebars on that bike came almost to my neck.  As it was locked to a railing, and its owner nowhere in sight, I could only wonder how one mounted, much less rode, it.

Coloring My World

We're often advised to "stop and smell the roses."

Well, I stopped for flowers of some sort, but they weren't exactly roses.  I didn't mind:  They were flowers I'd never seen before.

I've seen other plants with buds that were bigger than those flowers.  Still, I assure you that they are indeed flowers, petals and all.

My cell phone camera didn't quite capture what I saw:  a kind of pointillist scrim of purple in the garden of St. Luke in the Fields.  I have no idea of what they're called, but whatever their name, they made me happier today.

The Invasion Of The Parking Snatchers

I don't read the Washington Times very often.  On the few occasions in which I've done so, it seemed like the New York Post transplanted to the banks of the Potomac.

I've spent enough time in organizations and involved in movements to know that sometimes their most ardent supporters can be their worst enemies.  I've seen too many single-minded activists and pure-and-simple zealots alienate people who could have just as easily been their allies.  

It's almost surreal to see both what I described in the previous two paragraphs come together, as it did in a piece published yesterday.

The WT article was entitled "Residential Parking Sacrificed to Bicycle Lanes: Bike 'Wars'?".  Those of us who live in communities with bike lanes and share programs have heard or read some variation on it by now:  It's like The Invasion of the Body Snatchers, with those alien cyclists and their strange vehicles "taking over" residential and business areas and wresting parking spaces from innocent, bewildered home and business owners.

I almost didn't read the WT article.  I'm glad for whatever influenced me to venture beyond the title and through the first three-quarters or so of the article.  Up to that point, I could have substituted the name of any number of New York City neighborhoods for Alexandria and the story would have been, essentially,the same as the ones we see in the Post (New York, not Washington).

I knew something was up, though, when after quoting someone who whined that cyclists "take over," the author of the article wrote, "Another common argument against cyclists and bicycle commuters is that they make up less than two percent of the American population."

Now, I know we're powerful and persistent (and, I daresay, smart), but I don't recall many examples of two percent of the population taking over the other 98 percent.  I also don't recall any group that's insignificant enough to dismiss yet powerful enough to "take over".  

Oh, but it gets even better.  A few sentences later, the author tells is that, on a given day, the number of cyclists who use a certain street exceeds the number of drivers who park in the spaces that would be eliminated for a planned bike lane.  In other words, those spaces are empty more than they're not.  And, as one study pointed out, the majority of the vehicles in those spaces are those of visitors, or they're service vehicles.

Hmm... Maybe if the anti-bike folks continue to make such fallacious arguments, we won't need to be so ardent or strident.  

That said, as I've mentioned in other posts, I'm not 100 percent for more bike lanes. I'm not against them; I just don't think they alone (or in conjunction with bike-share program) will make a community friendlier or safer for cyclists.  I still think it's far more important to have drivers--whether of personal vehicles, city buses or long-haul trucks--who also ride bikes, even if only on occasion. Especially such drivers who are also planners and policy-makers.

As for the WT article I mentioned:  I never would let my students get away with the lapses in logic I found in it.
 

It Made Our Bikes Possible

We have all had our life-changing moments, for better and worse: the first kiss, finding out that a hero or role model was merely mortal, tasting an unfamiliar food and liking (or disliking) it more than we expected, or doubting something that had always been believed or assumed.

I'm not going to tell you that I've had such a life-changing moment today, or within the past week or month.  But I got to thinking about those revelations or epiphanies or whatever you want to call them in our cycling lives.

Some of us experience such a moment upon riding a bike with dropped bars or a hard leather saddle and discovering it is actually comfortable--or, at least, not as uncomfortable as we expected.  Or it can come when we try a new genre of riding or type of bike:  For example, I never expected to fall in love with fixed-gear riding.  Conversely, some of us might learn that we do not have the time, resources or talent to become the racers we hoped to be--or that age or other changes in our bodies might mandate changes in the way we ride.

And then there are the seemingly-smaller, but nonetheless influential experiences that cause us to see some aspect of our cycling in a different way.

If you came of age during the 1970's (as a cyclist, anyway), one such experience could have come after you'd spent some time riding a typical bike from that era, which came equipped with Huret or Simplex derailleur--or the Campagnolo Valentino or Gran Turismo. Perhaps the derailleur broke, wore out or rusted solid (a common occurrence with Huret derailleurs in rainy climates).  Or you got to ride a friend's bike, or test-ride one in a shop.

Your friend's bike, or the one you test-rode, might have been equipped with the same derailleur your shop mechanic installed (or recommended, if you did your own work) when your Simplex, Huret or Campy died.  That derailleur was the Sun Tour GT--or, later, the VGT.

Sun Tour V-T Luxe Derailleur, ca. 1974.  From Disraeli Gears

To this day, I don't think I've ever ridden any other bike part that seemed so far superior to its counterparts.  Some people have described feeling that way about using an Apple computer after years of working on machines equipped with Microsoft.  Since I haven't used Apple, I can't vouch for its superiority.  However, I can assure you that the difference between Sun Tour derailleurs and anything else made during the 1970's was at least as great.

From what I understand, Apple is influencing changes in the design of other computers and electronic devices and that, in the near future, I might be using something with their imprint whether or not it's my intention.  

In a similar fashion, even though SunTour went out of business around 1995 (though its name is still licensed for bike parts marketed in Europe and other parts of the world), nearly all of us are riding a SunTour derailleur, if you will.  If you're riding any derailleur that clicks when you shift it, the mechanism will have a geometry very similar to, if not exactly the same as, a SunTour V-series (V, VT, V-GT, Vx, Vx-GT) from the 1970's.  Yes, even arch-rival Shimano adopted it for all but its least expensive rear derailleurs.  

In fact, Shimano's first SIS series of integrated derailleurs, shifters, cogs and chains came out in 1985--the year after SunTour's 1964 patent on the slant-parallelogram derailleur expired.  Shimano had made earlier, unsuccessful attempts at creating an indexed ("click-shift") derailleur system.  Turns out, they needed Sun Tour's slant parallelogram to make it work.

Ironically, when SunTour made its own indexed system a couple of years later, it didn't work as well as Shimano's.  The same was true of Campagnolo's first attempt at such a system:  the Synchro, which some of us called the "Stinkro".  SunTour and Campy both made the same mistake:  They simply retro-fitted an indexed ring to shifters they already made and didn't integrate it with the other parts.   

Campagnolo survived its mistake only because its more traditional Record (the Nuovo, Super and C- series) were still widely used in elite pelotons such as those of le Tour, il Giro and la Vuelta.  As good as SunTour's earlier equipment was, it was still almost unknown in those circles and, costing much less than Campy's stuff, didn't have snob appeal.  

People who started riding during the mid-90's or later have probably never heard of SunTour. But that once-proud derailleur maker made the bikes most of them ride possible--and changed our cycling world.

If You Have To Bring Your Bike Back To The Shop...

I've worked in a bicycle shop during the week between Christmas and New Year's Day.  A kid and his or her parent (or some other adult) would come in with the bike the kid got as a present.  One or both of the wheels would be shaped like tacos, pretzels or some other appetizer or snack served before or after the holiday dinner.

The kid or adult would claim the kid "was just turning the corner" when "it bent."  When the kid's puppy-dog eyes didn't elicit a free replacement of the wheel or bike, the adult would demand a refund.

Other current and former bike shop employees have told me similar stories.  No doubt the one who made this graphic has heard it, too:

By Jessica Psy De Lacy

Wearing The Pants

Back in 1984, Levi's was the official outfitter for the US Olympic Team.  That year, the Games were held in Los Angeles.  In those days, Levi's blue jeans were made up the coast, in San Francisco.

That was during the time in my life when, off the bike,  I wore nothing but Levi's 501s with button-down, polo, rugby, flannel or T-shirts, depending on the occasion. Sometimes I wore those things while riding, too.  And, of course, when the weather was warm enough (and I could get away with it), I wore 501 cutoffs.  

I know lots of cyclists could have said the same thing about their sartorial habits.  I'll bet there are plenty of cyclists today who could.  Thus, I am still amazed that Levi's never came out with a line of cycle clothing--at least to my knowledge.

I got into this rumination of threads past when I saw this ad:

 
 Apparently, someone named M Schwab designed it during the 1970's.  I wonder what he/she is doing now.

The Comfort of a November Sky

A couple of weeks ago, I noticed that I was feeling sad.  One reason is that a few people who have mattered to me died around that time of year--including a family member who was a couple of years younger than I am now and a female friend who committed suicide.  But another cause of my tristesse is the days growing shorter.

Interestingly, I don't notice the lack of light as much when I'm riding my bike.  In fact, the graying November sky becomes rather comforting, like a shawl spread across bare, wizening limbs and rocks:

 
And the November dusk has its own sort of lumination, like a sort of wisdom revealed:

A little bit of that light crossed my path--or so it seemed:

When I stopped, he rubbed against my ankles.  When I dismounted and squatted next to my bike, he rubbed his face against my hand.

He brought me joy tinged with a note of sadness:  A cat so friendly could only have been abandoned by someone.   

In that sense--as well as in his physical appearance--he's like Max.  My friend Mildred, who rescued him, told a similar story:  He, who had never before met her, approached her as she walked down the street.

I didn't have a bag or basket, but I was tempted to find a way to bring my new-found friend home.  I gave myself all of the reasons why I couldn't.  A woman sitting on a nearby bench told me not to worry:  He's been living on that stretch of the Rockaway boardwalk for "about three years" and she and other people feed him.  

I guess he manages to sleep and survive with that sky as his blanket and the sand as his mattress.