Citibike In Winter

From Diario en Bici

I have no empirical studies to back up what I’m about say:  The popularity of Citibike, New York’s bike-share program, has continued into the winter.  Granted, I don’t see as many people riding those blue bikes as I did during the summer or even in November.  But I still see fair number of them: sometimes more than I see “civilian” cyclists.

If my perception is indeed accurate, it bodes well for the program.  I can think of two possible explanations for what I’ve seen. One might be that New York residents who don’t own bikes but have yearly memberships are trying to make as much use of them as they can.  The other could be that more and more visitors to the city see going for a bike ride as a requisite experience, much as other tourists (or, perhaps, they themselves), might see going to museums, galleries, plays or concerts, shopping, eating foods they might not find at home or—incredibly—going for a horse-and-carriage ride in Central Park. 

I’ve never checked out a Lonely Planet, Routard or Let’s Go! guide to the Big Apple.  I wonder whether they’re telling people that pedaling through the urban canyons is a “must” for one’s stay in my hometown.

American Style

A few posts ago, I talked about the 1970's  "Bike Boom."  One phenomenon related to it is the rise, for a time, of a sort of cottage industry.  For the first time since the Six-Day Races of the 1930's, a number of American artisans were building frames in the US.  At the same time, a few notable framebuilders emigrated to the US and set up shop here.

Until that time, about the only high-quality custom bike built in the US was the Schwinn Paramount.  Nearly all of the bikes ridden by US Olympians until 1984 were Paramounts; one urban legend of the time said that company founder Ignaz Schwinn and his sons and grandsons built those bikes--on which they never made any money--out of patriotism and their desire to ensure that Schwinn was the Great American Bike Builder.

But by the 1970's, a small but growing number of cyclists wanted high-quality lightweight bicycles.  Most people don't realize how labor-intensive building bicycles, especially those with hand-built frames is. That accounts for their high prices and why Schwinn could not keep up with the demand, as small as it was.  So, a few builders thought it was a good time to enter the frame.

Colin Laing came here from England, Falliero Masi from Italy and Francisco Cuevas from Argentina (He began his career in Spain) and set up shop.  Around the same time, Albert Eisentraut, Tom Kellogg, McLean Fonvielle and other US-born framebuilders began practicing their craft.  

One such builder was Brian Baylis, who built this bike:

I am sorry that this isn't a higher-resolution photo.  The details of this frame are just amazing.  And, of course, the color scheme is something I might have ordered.  But it's not a "fade"; even though this frame was built in the '80's, Baylis--or whoever ordered this frame--didn't get sucked into that unfortunate trend.

He just recently retired from framebuilding.  Others from his generation stopped building or were hired by larger bike manufacturers to build "custom" bikes for them.  The reasons why they did so were mainly economic:  In spite of their high cost to the consumer, most custom-built frames make very little money for those who build them.  It's also hard on the body:  that is one reason why Baylis has retired and Peter White, renowned for his wheelbuilding and his eponymous shop in New Hampshire, stopped building frames.  
 

Following An Old Ramble

 I haven't done as much cycling as I'd planned or hoped to do this week.  One reason, I guess, is that I am recuperating from the cold (At least, that's what I think and hope it was) I was denying I had.  

But today I took a decent ride.  Although I slept fairly late, I managed to get a 40 mile (65 km) ride in, with a few short but fairly steep climbs.

I took a rather circuitous route to a place I used to cycle through and to regularly when I was living in Washington Heights.  Back in those days, Yonkers--at least the part west of the Thruway (a.k.a. I-87) was the sort of place for which, it seemed, the word "depressed" had been coined. Nearly all of it was as poor--and, not surprisingly, black--as some parts of the neighboring Bronx.   But, unlike some of the Big Apple's poverty pockets, it seemed utterly listless--as if there wasn't even enough energy to be angry, let alone get into a fight.  

So why did I ride there?  As I mentioned, it was close by and had a few decent climbs.  Also, there used to be a bakery that made fresh pita. (There was, and is, a Middle Eastern community.)  Depending on how much time I had (or how much I wanted) to ride, I could continue further into Westchester County, to Sleepy Hollow country.  Best of all, the city skirts the Hudson River and offers some fantastic views up- or down-stream:

Downstream.  The George Washington Bridge is in the distance.

Across:  The Palisades

Part of the purpose of my trek was a test ride.  More about it, and some other things I've used lately, later.

Creatures Along The Way

When you ride off-road—or even on roads or paths that cut through flora and fauna—you are bound to encounter creatures great and small.

Here in New York, if you ride through or near a park—or any place with more than a couple of trees—you’ll see squirrels.  Most of them will simply avoid you.  The same is true of chipmunks.  In fact, most creatures you might encounter in or around this city really don’t want to go anywhere near you.  They include the deer that have darted or loped across my path just on the other side of the George Washington Bridge and in the leafy parts of Westchester County.

In fact, most of the animals that venture near you are sick or otherwise impaired, or dying.  That includes the large rat that went “thwop” against the side of my Deep-V rim when I sliced through late-summer haze along the flat stretch on the east side of Prospect Park.  At that time—around 2001—there’d been a number of construction projects near that side of the park and, as someone explained to me, the excavations opened up various Pandora’s boxes.

Far more charming—and healthier—were the oak bark-colored mountain goats that seemed to line up along the side of the road up the Col du Portillon/ Coll de Portillo on the border between France and Spain.  I half-expected them to chuckle:  After all, they climbed that mountain every day.  And they didn’t have a 36X28 gear!

Handsome creatures they were. But for sheer cuteness, none beat the tiny green lizards that darted across my path during my last ride of my most recent trip to Florida.  You see them any warm day.  I’ve tried photographing them but they’re too quick.  That’s also the reason why I’ve never run any over.

I also saw a few armadillos.  However, they didn't try to come anywhere near me.  

Of course, anyone in any kind of vehicle—whether powered by one’s own feet or an internal combustion engine—runs the risk or has the opportunity to see, meet, dodge or bump into creatures of one kind or another.  It also doesn’t matter whether those vehicles are on land, in the air or on the water:

I actually came within a couple of feet of a manatee once.  I was swimming in Matanzas Inlet (which, to tell you the truth, I probably wasn’t supposed to do) on one of my first trips to the Sunshine State.   The creature, which looks something like a walrus without the mustache or the public relations, gave me a shy, quizzical look.  I liked it in the same way I like wrinkly dogs and shaggy cats. I assume other people feel the same way.

I wonder how it would have reacted to me if I’d been on my bike.

Freedom Rider

On this date in 1929, Martin Luther King Jr. was born.   His birthdate will be commemorated on Monday, five days from now. We also observe the births of Presidents Washington and Lincoln, as well as other holidays, on Mondays in this country.

I guess if you want to become famous enough to have a holiday dedicated to you, you have to be born on Monday.  Or, perhaps, being born on Monday will lead you to fame.

But I digress.  I don't often hear or see MLK and bicycling mentioned on the same page, let alone the same sentence.  The biographies I've seen tell us that he enjoyed riding his bike as a kid but make no mention of him cycling as an adult.

From Dan's Globe Bike

So why am I mentioning him on this blog?  Well, I believe that my cycling is one major reason why I began to think about issues of social justice long before I would be affected by them in the immediate and visceral ways I would experience them when I was transitioning from male to female.  Riding my bike through New York--where I have lived much of my life--and other cities, I have seen, close-up, the stark differences between neighboring communities.  Just minutes after spinning by the opulent townhouses and boutiques of Manhattan's Fifth and Park Avenues--which rival Rodeo Drive, Kensington Gardens and l'Avenue Montaigne--I descend the ramp from the Triboro Bridge to the southern tip of the Bronx.  It's part of the 16th Congressional district, the poorest in the entire nation. There, I am as likely as not to be the only woman on a bicycle within a radius of several miles.

In both neighborhoods, people sometimes compliment the bike I'm riding, or (on rarer occasions these days) my riding itself.  In either neighborhood, I am keenly aware of my privilege:  Even if I am riding to work or an appointment, I am riding my bike by choice.  And I am riding a bike I choose to ride.  Even if I have no money in my purse, I still occupy a higher rung on the social--and, yes, economic--ladder then those who are riding bikes that no one else wanted so they can deliver pizzas or get to an appointment with a case worker.

As long as I can ride, and choose to do so, I am privileged.

The Florida Tourism Board Won't Use This

Yesterday I got back from a few days in Florida.  I spent some time with Mom and Dad.  As usual, I ate too much:  How could I do otherwise when I'm surrounded by Mom's cooking.  (At least, it seems like there's food everywhere I turn when I'm there!) How does the saying go?  Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we can diet.  Or something like that.

Of course, we all know that, at this time of year, you go to Florida for the weather.  And indeed it was warmer there than it was in New York:  30F (-1C) when my flight landed in the Sunshine State.  It was 3F (-16C) that morning in New York.

As for the State's motto:  We did get sunshine, yesterday and the day before.  The two days before that looked more like this:

Hmm...The Atlantic Ocean at Painter's Hill might actually be even prettier under an overcast sky.

In such conditions, I am not the only one in Flagler Beach contemplating her existence:

We all know that the ocean is really an infinite road, perhaps the one not taken (Sorry, Robert!):

I'll blame the fact that I didn't ride further along this road than I did on the bike:  The rear wheel was literally falling apart.  I rode back to Mom's house as darkness was approaching.  I figured that the next day I could get the bike to the shop.  But Dad took me there the following morning.  By the time I changed the wheel, the sun was playing tag with the clouds and I followed more of that road--and A1A, along the ocean. 

I confess:  I was following this procession:

 

Le Tour 2014

Here is a map of the 2014 Tour de France:

As you can see, the race begins in England and also crosses into Belgium and Spain.  Notably absent are stages along the Atlantic, in the center of the country or in the western part, save near where it crosses into Spain.  Also, from looking at the map--and my own experience riding in many of the areas through which the Tour will pass--I expect this year's race to be more mountainous than average.

To all of the racers, I say bonne route.  And, if not this year, I hope to go and see the race again.

An Orange Ghost Of Fashion Week Past

Appropriating a symbol can really be risky business---especially when the appropriator (Is that a word?) doesn't understand the symbol in question.

I think now of how the Navy contacted a certain musical group that had just scored a runaway hit.  They wanted to use the group's newest song in a recruitment video.  The Navy provided an actual warship and its crew, as well as production assistance, at the San Diego Navy base on the condition that the men in blue could use the song for free.  The group's manager agreed and production started.  Things were going swimmingly until one of the brass actually listened to the group's other songs.

If you know your popular music history, or are around my age, you might know that the group in question is The Village People, best known for their anthem YMCA.

A few years later, someone on President Reagan's re-election campaign had the brilliant idea of using a song with what seemed to be the perfect title.  From what I understand, a commercial containing the song was produced but wasn't aired because someone realized that the politics of the man who wrote and performed the song were almost the exact opposite of Reagan's.


That song, of course, was none other than Born in the USA by Bruce Springsteen.

The world of bicycling is not without similar faux pas.  One was committed around this time six years ago by fashion designer Donna Karan (DKNY).  In advance of Fashion Week, the company chained bikes to trees in the vicinity around Bryant Park, where the models walk down the runway.  

Possibly for the first time in her career, Ms. Karan's design team did something just about nobody liked.  The bike-haters (or, more accurately, those who hate cyclists) were predictably outraged.  But cyclists (including yours truly) were, probably, even more upset.  Some of us felt that DKNY was mocking (or, at least, didn't research) the Ghost Bikes.  

Perhaps the worst part of DKNY's gaffe was that they locked their bikes to trees.  By then, the Parks Department had posted signs and waged campaigns to discourage the practice, as the locks and chains sometimes damage the trees.  

To people like me who lived through the '70's Bike Boom, this spectacle was sad and ironic:  Many cyclists, in those days, took to cycling as an environmentally-friendly alternative to driving for commuting and errands, if not for longer trips.

This Bike Boom, This Time Around

It's been said that if you wore something the first time it was in fashion, you can't wear it when it comes back.

I am of two minds about that.  On one hand, growing up as a boy and living as a young man, I wished I could wear (in public) the print skirts, peasant tops and lace leggings that were en vogue.  At least, during the '80's, I could wear neon pink--Did you hear me?:  Pink!--even if only on my Italian cycle jerseys and jackets.  Still, I longed to rock the leather-and-lace look the way Madonna did (and her daughter would a quarter-century later) and to wear one of those female executive suits with a pencil skirt and a fitted jacket the way Sigourney Weaver did in Working Girl. 

On the other, I don't want to revive some of my more painful memories of those times, when I could speak to no one about my gender identity struggles and thus lived in a kind of social isolation that hindered my development in so many ways and still sometimes affects me.

So why am I talking about such things on a bike blog?, you ask.  Well, I sometimes see references to the "70's bike boom".  I just happened to have lived through it.  Actually, it started at roughly the same time I was entering puberty--my first puberty, to be exact.  (Make what you will of that.)  That was when I, like many other people, first rode the machines that, for many, are still synonymous with sport cycling: ten-speed bikes.  Whether on a department-store Murray or Huffy, a Schwinn Varsity or Continental from the shop passed down through three or four generations of family members who sold and fixed bikes kids got for Christmas, birthdays and other occasions-- or one of those newfangled Peugeots or Fujis or Raleigh Grand Prixes from new bike emporia that were cropping up---many of us discovered that bicycles could be faster, flashier and more temperamental than the so-called "English racer" three-speed, not to mention the baloon-tired Columbias some of our parents rode.

I remember how some actual and wannabe pundits were predicting a cultural shift:  The "energy crisis" sent gasoline prices to a then-unheard-of dollar a gallon (which was still a third to a quarter of what Europeans and Japanese were paying) and some people discovered that not only was cycling to work or school cheaper than driving, it also was, for some, faster when one took into account the amount of time spent hunting for a parking space and doing the other things associated with driving or even taking mass transit.

For every one who saw bikes as "the way of the future," another saw the "boom" as a fad.  For nearly three decades, it seemed (to some people, anyway) that they were right.  Those U0-8s and S-10s'es and Competitions and Internationals gathered dusts in basements and attics--or, worse, ended up in landfills.  Some discovered they didn't like cycling as much as they expected; others were flustered the first time they got a flat or gears went out of adjustment.  And others simply moved on to other things.

Also, the price of gas held steady while other prices didn't.  The result was that during the presidencies of Reagan and Bush the Elder, driving was just about as cheap (at least in the US) as it was two decades earlier.

During the past decade or so, we've entered another bike boom, if you will.  Along stretches of the waterfront, the warrenlike streets of central Brooklyn, the steel-bound cobblestones of Bronx industrial areas and the rows of brick houses in Queens, I see steams and throngs of cyclists where, on any given day in years past, I might have been the only rider to have pedaled through in several weeks or even months.  There are lanes and bike shares; drivers talk about us as a group, if sometimes scornfully.  And it's easier than ever to find just about any kind of bike or equipment one likes or needs.

But it seems to me that no one has "re-discovered" cycling.  In other words, I get the impression that almost no one who bought a ten-speed back in the day is getting back into riding now.  There are a few of us who continued to ride though the intervening decades.  However, it seems that those who bought their Motobecane Mirages back in 1974 and stopped riding them by the time Meat Loaf got his fifteen weeks of fame are adhering, however unconsciously, to the "you can't do it when it comes back" dictum regarding fashion.

From lissa.net

Also, the current "boom", if you want to call it that, is definitely less cohesive than the one of my youth.  One great development, in my opinion, about the current interest in cycling is that more transportation-oriented bikes and equipment are being offered.  I sometimes think that those who just wanted to ride their bikes from home to work or school back in the '70's weren't too crazy about the downturned handlebars or narrow seats and tires of the "racing" ten-speeds they bought.  Also, most of those bikes didn't have fenders, racks or other things that make it more feasible to ride in whatever one might wear on the job or to carry the things needed to perform that job.  I'm guessing that more than a few people were discouraged by what they perceived as the inconveniences of cycling to work or the store.

On the other hand, this current boom has also made high-end racing bikes--some of which cost more than I earned in any of the first ten or twelve years I worked--into status symbols, or at least markers of "real" cyclists.  In my time, not many cyclists raced, or even pretended to.  Somehow, though, those of us who did (however briefly) weren't a separate class from the others.  Interestingly, I saw more diversity--in social, economic, cultural,racial and generational (though not gender) terms among high-mileage cyclists than I do now.  I rode with people who were old enough to be my grandparents or young enough for me to baby-sit; I pushed my pedals up hills alongside bankers and their children as well as people who borrowed a dollar or two from me (as poor as I was!) to get through the week.

Because we were not as fractured--we couldn't be--not only were our bikes not status symbols (though we admired, and aspired to own, frames built with Reynolds or Columbus tubing and outfitted with Campagnolo or the best Sun Tour components), we did not fetishize them.  Those of us who rode knew why we chose the gear we used:  Although we may not have known the intricacies, we knew that the way our bikes were built evolved out of practical experience, not a fantasy of something "vintage."  Sure, there were fads, but mainly in ephemerata like lug cut-out designs or paint schemes.  The main operating systems, if you will, were refined over time but weren't rendered obsolete by marketers.

I'm thinking now about something a famous pianist said about Mozart:  His music is scorned, or at least heard condescendingly, in some circles because conservatory students and young musicians don't understand the reasons for all of those movements they believe to be quaint and romantic.  I'm also thinking about the way architects in the middle of the 20th Century eschewed the pitched roofs and cornices of Victorian houses without understanding the practical purposes of them.  In a similar vein, a subset of cyclists wants "randonneur" bikes, parts and other accoutrements for exactly the same reason another group of riders simply would not be caught dead on anything that isn't made from carbon fiber:  They don't understand the reasons why "classic" bikes were, and are, made as they are any more than they understand the purposes of more modern designs.

If you are merely following a trend without understanding why the trend exists, you can't return to it when it returns:  You will have moved on to something else.  That, I think, is the reason why we're told not to wear a fashion "the second time around".  But if we understand what moves us to it--in other words, if we understand what attracted us to it then, and why it attracts us now--then we don't have to look or feel foolish; we can re-interpret it for ourselves.  I believe the same is true for cycling:  If you knew why you were doing it--and you loved it--back in the first "boom", you feel as "at home" (if slower) on your bike as you did back in the day.  And you're probably riding now--perhaps even with all of those young people in "retro" jerseys.



  

What's Winter To You?

Today we got a respite from the coldest weather we've had in about three years.  Still, by the standards of some parts of the world, 3F (-16C), is fairly balmy.  Transplants from the bitter steppes of the Upper Midwest and expats from places like Novosibrisk (Doesn't it just sound bone-chilling?) laugh when they see the fuss New Yorkers make about such temperatures and a few inches of snow.

I find it pretty funny when people ask me whether I "still ride" in the cold.  They never ask the same of people who go out for walks or go outdoors for just about any other activity besides swimming.  Really, the cold doesn't bother me much, though I admit that when it conspires with wind and wetness, I might decide to stay home and cook up a pot of tomato sauce--of which I'll freeze most.

The thing that made today a relatively unpleasant day to ride (I did only a few miles.) was the intermittent rain and the slush that had become of the snow that fell the other night.  I know, I have two bikes with fenders, those bikes and I can stay relatively clean and dry.  But such conditions are still not a whole lot of fun for riding.

I wonder whether people who live in really cold climates feel the same way:  undeterred by cold itself, but daunted by some of the things that accompany it. When it's cold, you can just add more layers of clothing.  Your body warms up almost as soon as you start pedaling. (At least, mine does.)  But when there's ice, slush and other stuff, it's--for me, anyway--a bit more challenging.

From Fader

 

 

Through The Snow

By now, I'm sure that you've heard about the snowstorms that blew through this part of the world.   Where I live, in Astoria, the official snowfall total was seven inches (about 18 cm), about the same as what was recorded just across the river in Central Park.  Other nearby locales had a foot (about 30 cm).  

While these nebular accumulations are not exceptional, they are the most we've had in some time. What made this storm particularly harsh were the gale-force winds, which helped to drive the temperature to the lowest level (3F or -16C) we've had in three years.  So, it's not surprising that almost nobody was outside until this morning.  In fact, the only people I saw on bikes were delivering restaurant meals.

Somehow I found myself thinking about people who take multiyear or trans-global bike tours.  Surely they must encounter conditions like these somewhere along the way. Perhaps their bikes end up looking, at least for a while, like this:

From 360 Niseko

 

Un Volte, Un Pezzo Di Cartone E Solo Un Pezzo Di Cartone

The riders and collectors of vintage bikes and equipment seem to fall into two categories:  those who like scratches, patina and other signs of age, and those who want the "showroom" look.

Those who are in the latter category and take their obsession to an extreme need these:

If you think you're looking at two little oddly-shaped pieces of cardboard stamped with a classic Campagnolo logo, trust your perception.  Even if you do, though, you may not be able to believe what you read next:

Those two pieces of cardboard--which measure no more than about 15mm by 10mm each--are now selling for $6 USD.  If you want them, go to Boulder Bicycle. 

Now, of course, there are always people who will pay utterly insane amounts of money for the most mundane items if said items are emblazoned with logos the pre-eminent component maker in Italy (and, some would argue, the world) used while its founder, Tullio Campagnolo, was still alive.  I confess that I was one: I bought handlebar plugs and toe strap end buttons that cost twice as much as they would have without the Campy logo.  I thought they were "musts" for my Campagnolo-equipped Italian bikes.

However, the items you see in the photo were not, to my knowledge, made or sold by anyone else.  In fact, they weren't sold by anybody, at least not a la carte:  They came with new sets of Nuovo and Super Record, and Gran Sport, brakes from the mid-1960's,when Campagnolo first introduced their brakes, to the mid-1980's, after Tullio died and Campy discontinued their old NR, SR and GS gruppos.
 
The pieces of cardboard you see in the photo were used as packing material.  They were intended for removal after the brakes were installed on the bike, but manufacturers and dealers often left them on.  They didn't impede the function, as they fit over the acorn nuts on the outside of the brake mechanism.  As Boulder Bicycle points out, leaving them on gave the impression that the brakes were "factory fresh". 

I guess if you're trying to evoke or recall the feeling of seeing the brand-new, Campy-equipped, Colnago or Cinelli you saw for the first time (and despaired of affording) in your youth, six bucks is a bargain.
 

Having The Right Tool--Or An Obsession

Some cyclists are fanatical, or merely fetishistic, when it comes to tools.  I can honestly say I wasn't, even when I worked as a mechanic:  If a tool did the job and didn't ruin the piece of equipment on which it was used, it was good enough for me.

As for tools to carry on rides, I never was impressed with multi-tools, which seem to get even more gadgety every year.  I've never seen the need to carry more than the Park Tool MT-1, tire levers and the Victorinox Classic knife.  

But, you know, some people have to have an "elepant gun"  with them for a walk around the block.  I thought about them when I encountered this item in a store  in my neighborhood:

A corkscrew for red wine?  Hmm...How would a white wine corkscrew be different?  

What Is He Or She Doing Now?

Like most people, I got up late today.  Good way to start a New Year, huh?

Still, I managed to do a brief ride down to the Village.  Somehow I got diverted to my favorite Donut shop in the world:  Donut Pub on West 14th Street.  

While parking my bike, this caught my eye:

What's this person doing now?  One can hope he or she is riding a bike.  If nothing else, an ex-skater would have some good bike-handling skills.  I could see him or her on a track bike:  After all, skaters don't have brakes.   

Happy New Year?