Is The Old New? Or Is The New Old?

The book of Ecclesiastes tells us "there is nothing new under the sun".

That is no doubt true of the bicycle world, especially when it comes to "innovations".

I many not be very old. (At least, that's what I tell myself.) But when younger cyclists during the '80's treated newfangled aluminum frames with awe, as their counterparts would for titanium and carbon fiber frames a decade later, I could say "Been there, done that!"

When I was first becoming an active cyclist--and learning about different kinds of bikes--during the 1970's, frames were being made from all of those materials. Now, they weren't mass market:  In constant dollars, they were far more expensive, and even more exotic, than the ones made today.  !"

But aluminum frames were of the "screwed and glued" variety made by ALAN in Italy and, later, by Vitus in France.  Carbon fiber frames were similarly constructed:  the tubes were bolted and bonded into aluminum lugs.  And titanium frames, like those from Speedwell in England, were constructed in much the same manner as fillet-brazed steel frames.

Speedwell's construction, similar to those employed by rival titanium bike-maker Teledyne, were meticulous and sound.  However, the metal used was almost pure titanuium, which resulted in a bike that was neither stiff nor strudy.  No one realized that titanium had to be alloyed.

As for aluminum, everyone involved in building bikes knew enough not to use the metal in its pure form, mainly becuse aluminum alloy components had been in use for decades.  What they didn't realize, until the Klein bicycle was designed, was that they had to increase the diameter of the tubes to get anything like the stiffness of a good steel bike.

And there was even more to learn about using carbon fiber, and the molding technologies used now were two decades away.

Although I had witnessed earlier incarnations of those kinds of bikes during my youth, I didn't realize then that aluminum and titanium frames were built during the 1890's.  They weren't as widely-used as those of iron or steel--or even wood.  But it's still instructive to note that the technologies, in their rudimentary forms, existed then.

It was also interesting to find out--as I did, just recently--that two other "innovations" associated with the last quarter-century or so actually have as long a history as that of frames made from "exotic" materials.



Believe it or not, there were patents for suspension systems and aerodynamic bars in the 1880's and 1890's.  Any attempt to cushion the ride was bound to get a reception from somebody, as the high-wheelers and "boneshakers" of the time gave even harsher rides than modern time-trial bikes with the most extreme geometries.  Also, most roads of the time were unpaved.

But it seems that less effort was put into developing suspension systems once Dr. Dunlop invented the pneumatic tire.  It not only made bikes faster than they were before, it also gave a "floating on air" sensation, as at least one rider reported.  

As for aero bars:  Well, this pair was developed more for comfort:  It gave riders an extra hand position as well as a place to rest their arms.  A few riders have told me they rode aero bars for that reason alone, and it was one of the benefits of the "cowhorn" bars I rode on my old (Italian) Bianchi track bike.

There was another reason why aerodynamic bars were developed.  To be precise, there's a reason why two men in particular--brothers--came up with their version of them.

You might have guessed that the fraternal pair were Orville and Wilbur Wright.  Yes, they used their bars in attempts to measure air drag and wind resistance, two very important considerations in their development of their gossamer-winged wonder.

All of the above illustrations came from Roads Were Not Built for Cars.

Do The Ball And The Wheel Meet?

The Mets, one of this city's local Major League Baseball teams, opened their season.  The city's other local side, the Yankees, did likewise yesterday.

Bicycles parked at Target Field, home of the Minnesota Twins

While I don't watch baseball (or other team sports) games nearly as much as I once did, I'll confess that I still get excited over the start of the MLB season.  In part, it has to do with my enthusiasm for the game itself:  No other team sport, save perhaps for the one the rest of the world calls football, rewards strategic thinking and pure-and-simple intelligence.

But much of my excitement also has to do with the fact that those first regular season games are as much a sign of spring as the blooming crocuses.  And, of course, spring means more and better cycling--in most years, anyway.

One thing I've noticed is that, in adults, there's very little, if any, correlation between participation in, or being a fan of, cycling and playing or following baseball--or, for that matter, any of the other major team sports (basketball, hockey and American football).  A committed cyclist, whether or not professional, is more likely to be a runner, swimmer, ice skater (speed or figure) or skier than an infielder, linebacker or point guard.  

Perhaps even more interestingly, the realms of cycling and what the rest of the world calls football (soccer) almost never meet, even in those countries that are powerhouses in both sports.  

Belgium is one of the best examples I can think of.  Perhaps no other country has turned out more cycling champions in proportion to its population.  And, having been there, I can tell you that almost everywhere in the country, at almost any time, there is some cycling event or another taking place, whether a race, randonnee, audax, tour or commemorative ride of some sort.  

And, although it has not won the World Cup or the Olympics, Belgium has given the world as many fine footballers per capita as any nation.  That country's best are found on team rosters in the world's elite leagues, including the British Premiership, the German Bundesliga and the top Italian and Spanish leagues.

Still, I cannot come up with the name of any Belgian--or, for that matter, any other European or any South American--who excelled at both sports, or who even excelled at one and was better-than-average at the other.  

Now, it may well be that to excel in countries with such strong competiton in any sport requires complete commitment, leaving little or no time for others.  It may also have to do with the timing of the seasons:  After all, cycling and soccer seasons are on roughly the same timelines, while there is little overlap between ski or skate and bike seasons.  And some sports, like swimming and track-and-field, are more-or-less year-round, so athletes from other sports can compete during their off-seasons.

Somehow, though, I suspect there's another reason.  It may have to do with the fact that cycling is mainly an individual sport.  Even when a rider is on a team, he or she still is competing for individual honors--or to help the team's leader do the same--in ways that athletes in team sports do not.  Also, riding, whether as a member of a team or in a tour, is still a more solitary experience than, say, being a quarterback or shortstop.

In Suspension, In The '90's

According to Justine's Law of Retrospectivity, you can't have nostalgia for a decade in the decade that immediately follows it.

So, for example, the mania for the Fifties had to wait until the early '70's--1973, to be exact--when American Graffiti showed up in theatres.

In the past year or so, I've seen '90's-themed concerts, dances and other events cropping up in local venues.  It's one thing to have a Lisa Loeb concert.  But, seriously, do you really want to see anyone do the macarena again?  For that matter, can you say the word "indie" without rolling up your eyes?

You've got to admit, though, there were some really good bikes and some really cool stuff being made for them.  I mean, a cyclist's life is not complete unless he or she has ridden something with elastomers in it.  And nothing will strengthen your legs more than detaching your foot from an Onza pedal on a sub-freezing day.

But my favorite '90's mountain bike part is one that I haven't seen in ages:  the Softride suspension stem.

Yes, believe it or not, there was a time when grown men and women actually believed that flexible stems were a better idea than telescopic forks.  They're certainly less expensive.  And, hey, if you get one today, you'll be the coolest kid on the block.

I hear that those stems are going to be made again.  In the old Murray bicycle factory.  By unionized American workers.

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?