My Find Becomes Someone Else's Treasure

In an earlier post, I boasted of my curbside find of  a pair of Hondo/LeFol-style hammered fenders with a randonneur-style rack while riding along Kent Avenue in Brooklyn.

I really liked the look of them, and the quality seemed decent.  However, I wondered how useful that sort of rack would be to me.  And my research shows me that the fenders and rack are actually original equipment from an Electra Ticino bike.  

I don't mean to disparage their quality:  I have never used any of the company's products.  They might well be perfectly good:  After all, people rave about the bikes.

Still, I have to wonder whether using them to replace VOs would actually constitute an upgrade.  If I ever switch fenders on Helene or Vera, I think I'd want Honjos

But a cursory glance showed me that the way the mounting holes were drilled, the rack would not sit level on any of my bikes unless I drilled another mounting hole.  That would mean plugging the original drilling.  It's not only an aethetic matter:  Whatever is used to plug up the original hole will evenutally pop out and have to be replaced.  Also, if the plug is not airtight, it will never be as good as the material that was drilled out of the fender.

And, all right, I'll admit:  I'm just too lazy to change the fenders on my bikes.  So I took my fortuitous find to Recycle-A-Bicycle, who were only too happy to take them.

What Kinds Of Choices Are These?

Be forewarned:  I'm going to whine in this post.  So, if you'd rather read, or simply do, something else (e.g., ride your bike), I understand.

Here goes:  I had to use up some airline miles by the other day.  I didn't have enough to get a ticket:  Indeed, the last long flight I took was to Prague nearly three years ago.  And I didn't have enough for much of anything else.  Hey, they said I didn't even have enough to donate to charity!

But the airline group (Delta) offered me magazine subscriptions.  Wouldn't you know it?  There wasn't a single cycling-related publication on the list.  Nor anything having to do with poetry or literature in any other shape or form.  Or history. Or art.  Or France, Italy or England. The only travel-related publication caters to gazillionaires.

No Atlantic Monthly.  No Harper's Bazaar.  No Paris Review.  And no New York Review of Books.

So what kinds of magazines were offered?  Cigar Aficianado.  (I have smoked exactly two cigars in my life and don't plan on smoking another. )  Wine Spectator. How, exactly, does one become a "wine spectator"?  Now, I've known a lot of whine (actually, whining) spectators in my time and have been one more often than I care to admit.  There were also magazines about parenting and other things I've never done and probably never will do.

I found only three that even remotely interested me. One is The Economist.  While their politics are different from mine, I can rationalize subscribing to it because it's literate, intelligent--and British.  What were the others?  Please don't hate me for choosing these:  Time and Vogue. At least I can tell myself that the latter will help me with my personal and professional image. And, even if I hate the writing, I can just look at the pictures.  As for Time:  I can read whatever I find halfway relevant and donate each copy to my hairdresser's shop.  

Beer, Cheese, Football--And Cycling?

If you were to ask people what the best US States for cycling are, a lot of people--even those who've  never been to those states--would probably pick Vermont, Oregon, California, Massachusetts, Washington, Colorado or Michigan (especially the Upper Peninsula and the upper parts of the Lower Peninsula).  Nearly every state would get a vote from someone:  After all, we all have different ideas about what "the best" cycling conditions are.

And, I would suspect, at least a few people would pick Wisconsin.  I've never cycled in the Badger State, but I know that its capital, Madison, is consistently rated as one of the most bike-friendly communities in the nation.  And, during cycling's first heyday (during the last two decades of the 19th Century and the first decade of the 20th), Wisconsin had one of the most extensive networks of bicycle lanes.

However, as in much of the rest of the US, the automobile rapidly overtook the bicycle as the chief means of transportation for those who did not have access to mass transit (and even among those who had it).  The bicycle was largely seen as a children's toy.

But, during the "dark ages" of cycling, Wisconsin did more than its share to keep the flame of adult cycling alive, if flickering.  And now the state--better known, rightly or wrongly, for cheese, beer and football (the US version), now boasts some of the greatest concentrations of cyclists and bicycle shops (both brick-and-mortar and online) in the nation.

Jesse Gant and Nicholas Hoffman tell this story in a book released in September:  Wheel Fever:  How Wisconsin Became A Great Bicycling State.

I want a copy for the cover alone: