A Detour From The Worlds' Fairs

Just recently, the Big Apple (a.k.a. my hometown) celebrated the 75th and 50th Anniversaries of its most recent Worlds' Fairs.  (It also hosted one of the earliest Fairs, in 1853.)  As I have mentioned in one of my earliest posts, I attended the 1964 Fair with my family when I was--well, let's say I was very young.  Very, very young.


 

I'd love to say that my family and I rode there together.  Well, my parents were like about 99.99 percent of American adults of the time in that they didn't ride bikes.  And of the Valinotti children, I was the only one who had graduated from tricycles.  I think my youngest brother was only a few months old when we went to the Fair.

But someone named Jay Kenney rode there. In fact, he pedaled about 1300 miles to get there:  He started in Richfield, Minnesota, with a group of cyclists about his age (16 at the time) on an American Youth Hostels tour.

I stumbled over his photo album when I was researching something else about the Worlds' Fairs.  But it made my day.  This photo--of the Ludington Light in Michigan--was worth the "detour".



Now, what was I researching again?

Hangin' Out With Serge The Concierge

Visitors to my apartment are sometimes amazed to see how many bikes and how much related equipment I've been able to fit--along with shelves full of books and a real bed and dining table.  And Max and Marley share the place with me!

Actually, I don't know how I'd manage if I were living with another human, especially if said human were not a cyclist.  I guess I'm more fortunate than most other cyclists--especially those here in the Big Apple--in that I've never owned a collapsible or folding bike out of necessity.

But I understand why such bikes are gaining in popularity.  Higher housing costs mean that we're living in smaller spaces.  Also, airlines seem to have become more ornery about transporting bicycles.  And, finally, today's Bromptons and even Dahons are better than folding or collapsible bikes of the past.

Of course, there are other solutions to the problem of small living spaces:

From Serge the Concierge

 

Cut From The Same Cloth--Or Hide

A couple of years ago, to a lot of fanfare, Brooks launched its Cambium saddles.  The stated reason was that some cyclists were looking for something that was, shall we say, is moins d'une douleur a l'arriere than their traditional tensioned leather saddles.

(Pardon my French. There, I said it!)

Ironically, Brooks created the Cambium--which is manufactured in Italy--as their tensioned leather saddles are more popular, at least here in the US, than they've been in decades.

The Cambium uses a fabric made of cotton and rubber instead of leather.  If you started cycling, say, about thirty or fewer years ago, you probably have not seen, let alone used, a cloth saddle.  But they've been around, in one form or another, almost from the earliest days of cycling.

One of the most famous examples is the "Bummer", which was inspired by Dan Henry's DIY project:

From American Cycling, July 1966

If you started cycling arond the same time as I did, you probably first heard his name in refrence to "Dan Henry arrows" or, later, "Dan Henry markers".  For decades, it seemed that every organized ride here in the US was marked by painting the symbols he developed onto pavement.

It seems that every other decade, someone makes a version of the Dan Henry saddle.  Late in the '70's Bike Boom, they were marketed as " Bummer" saddles; someone else revived them during the '90's.  Perhaps they'll return, soon, to a bike shop near you.

I've been tempted to try one, but never got around to it.  Maybe if somene rides one and is willing to let me take a few turns on it, I'd be willing. But I really don't want to buy another saddle that I might or might not like.  That said, if I were to try a new saddle, the Dan Henry/Bummer would probably be the one.

Now, if I wanted a cloth saddle purely for aethetic reasons, this is the one I'd get:

This saddle is said to be more or less a replica of one that was fitted to a Dursley-Pederson bicycle of the Edwardian era.  Tim Dawson, the author of the blog Vintage Bicycle, wites, "I  can report that I find it just as uncomfortable as the Dursley-Pedersen saddle."

Perhaps he needs to re-tension it:

Orange Peel--Or Krush?

During my childhood and early adolescence, Schwinn made a line of bicycles called "Krates", which were really variants of their enormously popular Stingray bicycles.  They had "banana" seats, "stick" shifters and other features that were meant to evoke the "muscle" cars of that era.

Those bikes came in a rainbow of colors and went by names like the Pea Picker Lemon Peeler, Apple Krate and Orange Krate.  (As Tom Wolfe pointed out in The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine Flake Streamline Baby, young men involved in the culture of custom muscle cars seemed to have an abhorrence of the letter "C".)  

I never, ever thought about what an Orange Peel might have looked like.  But I found out while I was surfing the web after riding home just ahead of yesterday's deluge:

They Didn't Bike To Work Today

Today, as you probably know, is National Bike To Work Day.

On the whole, I don't care much for designated days for one thing or another.  Ideally, we should ride our bikes to work every day, or at least any day we can, just as we should honor our parents every day, not only on Mother's and Father's Day.  I feel the same way about office assistants, teachers, veterans and other people and the days dedicated to them.

Still, I guess it's better to have such days than not to have them.  Perhaps this day might help to make some people realize that cycling is a viable mode of transportation.

And, I must admit, I expected--and rather hoped--to see a lot of people riding to work.  I have several commute routes; the one I took today led me down Kent Avenue on the Williamsburg waterfront.  Being the main artery, so to speak, of Hipster Hood, I expected to see throngs of two-wheelers.  Instead, this scene greeted me:

Don't get me wrong:  I rather enjoyed having the bike lane to myself. On the other hand, I was disappointed to see no other cyclists on what has become one of the main arteries, so to speak, of New York cycling.

Perhaps the reason for my solitude can be seen in this photo:

More precisely, it's what you don't see:  the skyscrapers just on the other side of the East River.  Normally, they're as visible and distinct as the stars on a clear night in the country.



The weather forecasts are predicting a deluge this afternoon.  Perhaps some people didn't want to risk riding in it, so they left their wheels at home--or didn't go to work at all.

At least, I hope that's the case.