A Bicycle Table For Your Coffee Books

Many, if not most, of us own at least one coffee-table book about bicycles or bicycling.  We even open them now and again; perhaps our non-cycling friends peek into them out of curiosity.

But I'll bet none of you has a proper coffee table for such a book.  (OK, I don't, either!):

From Sweety Design

 

If Speed Doesn't Kill

Today I'm going to talk about one of those topics about which none of us wants to think:  accidents.

Specifically, I'm thinking about motorists hitting or, worse, running down cyclists.

One reason it's on my mind is that last night, I had one of the closest calls I've had in a while.  

I had just traversed the Pulaski Bridge from McGuiness Boulevard in Greeenpoint, Brooklyn to Jackson Avenue in Long Island City, Queens--a crossing I've made hundreds of times.  On Jackson, I turned left and followed it to 50th Avenue.  Then I turned right on Vernon Boulevard, which skirts the East River and takes me within a few blocks of my apartment.

Daylight, such as it was, fell into night.  Showers were turning into a downpour.  Even that, in itself, is not so unusual, especially at this time of year.  I exercised my usual caution:  I rode a little bit slower and gave myself extra time and distance to brake.  I expected nothing more inconvenient than wet clothes (I was riding Vera, which has full fenders and a flap, but I had not brought any rain gear.) on the rest of my trip home.  

But as I approached the "Y" shaped intersection of Vernon with 45th Avenue and 10th Street, a car shot out from behind me and seemed to miss my front wheel by inches.  A quick turn of my handlebars saved me.

The intersection was well-lit, so my "blinky" lights and reflective vest should have been sufficient for the driver to see me.  There was no light or "stop" sign in the intersection, and I proceeded as far to the right as I could without making a turn.  

However, that driver had to be going at least twice the speed limit for that street.  And, given that it was early on Saturday night, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that his blood-alcohol level was over the legal limit.

In thinking about the incident, I realize that in every one of my close encounters with automobiles in which road conditions or inadequate signals or signage weren't the cause, the driver was speeding.  And, I would suspect that there was a better-than-even chance that the driver was drinking.

Then, just a little while ago, in doing some research (i.e., surfing the web), I came across this account of a 70-year-old cyclist in India who was mowed down by a speeding mini-bus. As it turns out, the driver has a record of speeding and recklessness.

That got me to wondering whether speeding is the main cause of accidents between cars and bikes in which the motorist is at fault. 

A Holy Text From The Patron Saint

Look at the picture, but don't look at the little box in the lower left hand corner.  (Yeah, right!)  This photo is the cover of a magazine. What kind of magazine? (Remember, you're not supposed to look at the box! ;-))

The same magazine featured this on the cover of another issue:

Lest you think they were concerned only with the French countryside, at least as a cyclist might experience it, take a look at this cover.

OK, so it's from 1970.  I think even Kirkus Reviews had a psychedelic edition around then.  Paul de Vivie might not have approved, but they can be forgiven.

Some of you may know that Le Cycliste, which was published from 1887 until 1973, was founded by someone who wrote under the name of "Velocio."  What you may not have known is that he was none other than Paul de Vivie, also known as "the patron saint of cycling."

If he isn't so recognized by Rome or anyone else, he should be known as the progenitor of a genre of cycling and the godfather, as it were, of a development in bicycle technology that most of us take for granted but wasn't allowed in the Tour de France during his lifetime.

That piece of machinery is, of course, the derailleur.  Whether or not he invented it, or even came up with the idea for it, is disputed.  What is generally beyond doubt is that he did more to make it a part of nearly all high-mileage (and some not-so-high mileage) cyclists' steeds. 

If there is any other person who did as much to popularize the derailleur--as well as other pieces of equipment that are included in every cyclotourist's (and racer's) kit--it's someone whose drawings regularly graced the magazine's pages.

You guessed:  Daniel Rebour.

Now to the kind of riding Velocio inspired, through his writing as well as his own riding:  It's what you all know as randonneuring.  And, of course, there are variations on it, such as the Audax and Gran Fondo.

Now, of course, when he was doing those 800-kilometer rides in five days through the mountains, Velocio did not have to stop at any check points or get a booklet stamped. However, in every other way, his rides are prototypes of randonnees and audax rides:  They were not races, but he always attempted (and usually succeeded) in covering a certain number of kilometers, to a particular destination and back, with as few and infrequent rest stops as possible.

He was not, as some of his critics charged, "hypnotized by speed"or "intoxicated by distance".  Rather, he was enamored of the ways in which such long hours of riding opened his senses to details no one could notice from a car or train (or plane).  A passage Dr. Clifford Graves quotes in an early issue of Bicycling! magazine is evidence of that.

Velocio/de Vivie (With a name like that, why did he need a nom de plume?) died in 1930.  The magazine continued for more than four decades after.  I haven't been able to find out why it ceased publication.  Perhaps the reason is that the number of serious randonneurs and cyclotourists declined in France, as it did in the rest of Europe, after the devastation of World War II was replaced, rebuilt or simply abandoned.  About a decade or so after the war, relatively large numbers of people could afford automobiles and drive them on the newly-created autoroutes.

Now, with  a resurgent bicycle touring community in the Old World as well as in America, Le Cycliste would probably do well--especially given that cyclists tend to appreciate tasteful, crafted work as well as nature.  Le Cycliste combined them beautifully. Thankfully, a current cycle publication seems to be doing something very similar:  Jan Heine's Bicycle Quarterly.

As Crocuses Open

In this part of the world, this winter has been brutal and seemed endless--at least in comparison with the past few.

On the other hand, much of Europe has experienced one of the mildest winters in some years.  So, cyclists are enjoying the weather and the budding flora.

Many European cities are lovely in the spring.  But seeing this photo made me want to be in Leiden right now, astride my wheels:

From Bicycle Dutch

  
Now I'm going to ask a silly question:  Is the plural of crocus "croci"?  Or is it "crocuses"?

Making New And Wider Tracks

Back when I was an active off-road rider,  a lot of ski resorts became mountain-biking meccas during the summer.  I rode (and hopped and jumped!) a  few in upstate New York, Vermont, Canada, France and Switzerland.  

During the mid- and late-90's, much of eastern North America  experienced a string of unusually mild winters.  So, from what I understand, mountain biking kept some of those upstate and Green Mountain havens in business.

Fast-forward a decade and a half.  Now it seems some of those same ski areas aren't waiting for summer to cater to cyclists. Or is it that mountain bikers aren't waiting for summer to make tracks in their favorite trails?

Actually, the new breed of snowbikers is making their mark (pun intended) in Washington state, Oregon and other areas of western North America.  However, it wouldn't surprise me to see it come east.

Those riders are sort of like Gary Fisher, Keith Bontrager, Joe Breeze and the other mountain bike pioneers of Marin County four decades ago.  Like those early intrepid off-roaders, snowbikers were, until recently, cutting, welding and bolting their super-wide-tired machines together from disused and discarded bikes. 

In another paralell with early mountain bike history, a few small custom makers are starting to offer ready-made bikes for the purpose.

And the fat-tired flyers might be the salvation of some of the ski areas in question, particularly those that are the provinces of cross-country skiers.  After all, the number of cross-country skiers has never been very large in the US, especially compared to the number of mountain bikers.

Could moonmobiles with 5" wide tires be coming to a bike shop near you?

Without A "Q"

When I started this blog, I promised myself that I wouldn't let it get hijacked by arguments that are, in the end, about personal preferences.  So, for example, while my bikes have Brooks saddles, and will I attest to their quality, beauty and comfort, I won't use this blog as a bully pulpit to convert the heathens ;-) who ride plastic saddles.  

That's one reason I've never brought up the "Q factor", a.k.a. "tread".  For whatever reasons, I have never found it to be an issue for me.  However, I can understand that some people whose anatomies and riding styles are different from mine might find the need to get the smallest "Q factor" possible on their bikes.

Is it possible to ride with no "Q factor" at all--in other words, with your feet together?  If so, what would it be like?

If any bike can answer those questions, it's this one:

From Charlie Kelly's Website

To my knowledge, the "Swingbike"  was never marketed--or, if it was, only a few were ever sold.  

Do Helmets Attract Cars?

I'll be the first to admit that my skills at scientific reasoning and statistical analysis aren't the best.  Still, I had to wonder when I came across a study claiming that bicycle helmets attract cars.

All right, that last statement is an exaggeration.  What the study really concluded is that drivers give less room to cyclists wearing helmets than to bare-pated ones, or those wearing other kinds of headgear.

That same study also implied that whatever protection a helmet affords is cancelled out by the narrower berths drivers give to helmeted cyclists and an alleged tendency of cyclists to take more risks when they have armor on their domes.

It leads me to wonder whether some study concluded that wearing seat belts encourages drivers to speed, take tight turns or even drive after drinking.  After all, wouldn't a seat belt lull a driver into a false sense of safety?

Wouldn't it also cause trucks to pull closer, or for planes to fly lower over the driver who wears one?

Sleepless As What's Under Them

The other day I got out for a bit of a ride.  On my way home, I passed through the Brooklyn Heights and Cobble Hill neighborhoods of Brooklyn.  

The Heights abuts the waterfront and the Hill is next door.  Both neighborhoods have been the home of a number of writers, especially poets--including the ones everyone's heard of like Walt Whitman, Hart Crane and Marianne Moore and ones only readers of this blog have heard of, like yours truly.

Anyway, much of the Heights gentrified decades ago--in fact, one of the first landmarked districts in the United States lies within the neighborhood.  Cobble Hill is also turning into an enclave of young professionals and families.  

One result of those demographic changes--and shifts in the city's, nation's and world's economy--is that much of the city's maritime history is disappearing.  I know about those developments firsthand:  Two of my uncles were maritime workers and their union headquarters once occupied an entire square block, and a good part of another, in South Brooklyn.  One of my early birthdays was celebrated in its reception hall; so were milestones in the lives of other family members of longshoremen and other workers.  Now that square-block sized building is occupied by the largest Muslim elementary school in America and the maritime workers are relegated only to a couple of offices in the other building.

One of the last remaining vestiges of the work those men (almost all of them were male) did is seen on this building I passed on Atlantic Avenue, near Clinton Street:

The former headquarters and workshop of John Curtin's sail-making operation is now condominums, with a restaurant and Urban Outfitters store in its street-level studios. 

Riding through the neighborhood made me think of this passage from Hart Crane's masterwork The Bridge:

 Sleepless as the river under thee,
Vaulting the sea, the prairies’ dreaming sod,
Unto us lowliest sometime sweep, descend
And of the curveship lend a myth to God.

Space Saver

Say "Munster" to most Americans and they'll think of that tangy semi-soft cheese with an orange rind.  They may have had it with their eggs this morning or on a turkey, chicken or ham sandwich for lunch.

That cheese is named for a city in the Alsace region of Eastern France, in a valley of the Vosges mountains.  The city and mountains are quite lovely, especially in the autumn.  And they can be a bit melancholy in their beauty,
in almost a New England-ish sort of way. 

There's also another city with the same name (but an umlat over the "u") in the Westphalia region of Germany--actually, not very far from the Vosgean ville.  It was in this German city that the Treaty of Westphalia, which ceded the Alsace and Lorraine regions--which, ironically, include the now-French Munster-- to France for the next two centuries, was signed.  

(France lost those territories in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71 but regained them with the Versailles Treaty after World War !.)

Anyway, Munster, like many other cities in Europe, has been trying to get people to forsake their cars for bicycles.  While many ride to work or for recreation, many (sometimes the same people) depend on their motor vehicles for shopping and transport.

One reason for the campaign is that Munster, like many older European cities, has narrow streets.  So, city officials realize that they can't (or don't want to) squeeze any more automobiles into the ancient lanes.

So, to spread the message, the city planning office distributed this poster (which is translated):

 

 

Where Did I Leave It?

New York City is one of the few places in this country where large numbers of people don't own, or even drive, cars.  I am among them.

It's pretty easy to tell those who drive from those who do: The latter complain about the lack of parking.  Someone with whom I used to work said that in his vision of Hell, he is doomed to forever roam the streets of Brooklyn in search of a legal parking space.

(Hmm...Would Dante have included that if he were writing The Inferno today?  If so, which circle of Hell would it be?)

That got me to wondering whether cyclists have the same problem in places where almost everybody rides.  After all, I have had to park my wheels a block or even more from my destination because there wasn't an unoccupied sign post or parking meter--let alone a bike station--where I could lock up my machine.

What do they do in Amsterdam?

From Danasaurus

Hmm...Now where did I park?