Why Did The Fill-In-The-Blank Cross The Road--In My Path?

I’m still thinking about the cat that smacked into my front wheel and caused me to crash.  The bike and I are OK, but I wonder what happened to him/her.

Other cats have crossed my path as I’ve pedaled.  One or both of us get out of the other’s or each other’s way.  At least, that’s how it worked until that unfortunate feline

Dogs are different.  I’ve been chased by a few; others jumped and tugged their leashes.  Some have walked up to me when I’ve stopped, and I rescued one that was wandering around in the middle of an intersection not far from where I worked.  I carried her in one hand while I steered with the other.  She stayed remarkably calm as I pedaled through traffic.  If I didn’t already have two cats—for whom I had to plead with my landlady for permission to move them with me into the house in which I was living—and had a bigger living space, I might have kept that cute little Yorkie—at least, I think that’s what she was.

As for other animals, I think most can be placed in one of two categories:  the ones who do whatever they can to get out of our way and the ones that barrel ahead in a straight line, completely oblivious to any cyclist who might collide with them.

Deer are in that latter category.  Several have bounded across my path; a riding buddy and I came within a tire width (or so it seemed) of splattering ourselves against the side of one that darted across the road at the bottom of a steep hill we descended.  In Bucks County (PA), no less.  You can’t make this stuff up.

I’ve seen moose, ibexes and mountain goats act in the same way:  straight ahead, with blinders on, across the road.  I wonder whether all ungulates behave that way.

Animals that avoid you include cats (most of the time), squirrels, chipmunks, lizards, armadillos and, believe it or not, snakes.  At least, the three snakes that I can recall crossing the path I was riding slithered away. 

Every one of those animals I’ve mentioned has entered upon “my” (Talk about a sense of entitlement!) riding space as I approached. 

In Florida, I’ve ridden paths and roads that rimmed or transversed swamps.  I’ve seen alligators, but none came near the road or path.  Do they avoid those things altogether, or was I just lucky?

Why did the alligator cross the road?  Well, actually, this one didn’t cross:  It was just standing there, on a street in DUMBO as I rode by.  I can’t help but to wonder:  Did it somehow just end up on the street in that position, or did someone leave it there?  

Another Winner From RuthWorks SF

A few days ago, I wrote about the excellent (and, in my opinion, beautiful) randonneur bag Ely Rodriguez of RuthWorks SF made for me.

I photographed it on Vera, my twin-lateral Miss Mercian mixte.  If you looked at the photos, you probably noticed another bag hanging from the seat rails.  I’m going to tell you about it in today’s post.

As you can probably tell, it’s also Ely’s work.  He made it around the same time he made the Randonneur bag.  So far, I have used that under-seat bag on three of my bikes:  Vera, Arielle (my Mercian Audax) and Helene (my other Miss Mercian).  It was a great complement to all of them.

How can I describe it?  Well, first of all, I’ll mention its capacity.  I don’t have an exact number, in cubic inches or liters.  But I can say with confidence that it’s somewhere between the Gilles Berthoud GB 786 saddle bag and the Carradice Barley: two bags I’ve used.

What that means is that it would probably do you well for a long day ride, or one that could involve changes of clothing or necessitate raingear.  You could also carry iPads and small cameras in it; if I were to carry a single-lens reflex camera with extra lenses and filters, I’d feel more confident with the Randonneur front bag ( or anything similar) with a small rack underneath.

Now, you could use it alone on a ride like the ones I’ve mentioned, or on a brevet or a long summer weekend ride for which you’re packing light. 

Well, perhaps I shouldn’t say “packing light”.  “Low-volume” might be more like it.  The bag is very strong, being solidly constructed of cotton canvas duck and leather.  (Ely can make a vegan version of it, if you prefer.)  And it offers a couple of options for mounting:  through the loops of a saddle like the Brooks B-17, or with a strap around the saddle rails.  Of course, you could use both if you’re carrying a large or heavy load.  Whichever you use, the bag is stabilized by a strap that fastens the bag to your seatpost, stays or rack rails, depending on the size and configuration of your bike. 

I would imagine that you could also install the mounting system Gilles Berthoud uses on its largest saddlebag, or fashion your own version of a decaleur.  Speaking of which:  I would also imagine that it would work as a handlebar bag, although I have not tried it myself.

Having said all of that, I will say that you probably won’t need to go to such lengths:  I simply pulled the long leather strap tight around the body of the bag, and it stayed snug against the saddle rails on all of my bikes, whether the bag was packed to, or far from, its capacity.  

All in all, I can say:  1.) I am happy with this bag for, essentially, the same reasons I’m happy with my other RuthWorks bag and, 2.) This particular bag is a good one to consider if you need something larger than a basic tool pouch/wedge but don’t want to buy a Bagman, rack or other hardware.  And, also like the other RuthWorks bags, it’s something to consider if you like a “retro” look and traditional materials and construction methods, but you want it your way. As I’ve mentioned in my posts about the other bags he’s made for me, Ely offers a variety of options (and even does custom designs) as well as materials and colors.

No Longer On Guard Against Chainguards

Until recently, chainguards were anathema to most "serious" cyclists.  I think it had to do with the fact that the first derailleur-equipped bikes most Americans saw, in the early days of this country's bike boom, lacked that amenity. 

Chain guard on 1975 Schwinn Varsity

Or, it had a disc--like the one in the above photo- that was about as good at keeping your clothes out of the chain as fishnet fenders would be at keeping you from getting sprayed during a monsoon.

More than a few cyclists and mechanics--including the late Tom Cuthbertson, author of Anybody's Bike Book--actually advised removing your chainguard and, if you rode with long pants, using cuffs or bands.

For more than three decades, I rode bikes without chainguards.  In fact, the idea of installing one on any of my bikes scarcely even crossed my mind. 

Then, about a decade ago, there was a cosmic convergence.  All right, maybe it wasn't quite cosmic, but it was unexpected and perhaps serendipitous for makers and sellers of chainguards.  Around that time, a demand for "practical" bikes--including Dutch-style, English three-speed and Parisian porteurs--emerged along with an interest in vintage bicycles.  Folks like Chris Kulczyki, the founder of Velo Orange started rummaging warehouses, first in North America, then in Europe, looking for beautiful old chain guards like this one:

Mercier chain guard

I love that one, and others that have cut-out patterns and such.  I equally love the ones that are simply shaped and finished to fit with the overall aesthetic of the bike, like the one on this 1958 Motobecane Pantin Ladies' bike:

Pantin is the community on the outskirts of Paris where, for decades, Motobecane made its bicycles and mopeds.  It seems fitting as a model name for a city bike that's elegant enough for the most urbane boulevardier.  Such a person probably would not dream of riding without a chainguard! 


 

Chains Of Light

When I was in fifth grade, my class took a trip from our school in Brooklyn to an exotic land on the other side of a frigid, turbid body of water:  the East River.  We, of course, went to Manhattan.

In that exotic isle, we visited the Metropolitan Opera House of the  Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, which was then only a few years old.  I knew nothing about opera or classical music, but the place had me entranced in a way no amusement park ever could. 


 



What had me most enthralled were the chandeliers.  I'd never seen anything like them, and few things have ever fixated themselves in my mind as they did.  To this day, I don't know whether it showed that I had exquisite taste at an early age or that I was simply a magpie in a human body. Whatever the case, I simply could not take my eyes away from them.


 



I decided, then and there, that if I ever became rich, I would want such a fixture hanging over my dining room table.  

In the meantime, though, I might go for this:

Carolina Fontoura Alzaga constructed this masterpiece from  bicycle chains. Somehow it seems even more operatic and baroque than the ones in Lincoln Center.  I love it!

Vera Gets New Bags From Ely

Vera doesn't seem to have suffered any structural damage from the accident a few weeks ago.  I feel confident in saying that after doing some work on it.

In the course of doing some maintenance and repair, I decided to make a few changes.  One involved going to a slightly longer handlebar stem extension.  I took the opportunity to install one with a built-in cable hanger:

And, as you will notice, I did something to the stem.  Look at how the bell is attached.  Yes, I drilled a hole and tapped it so that the bell, which I unscrewed from its bracket, threaded in.

The bell, by the way, is Japanese.  I bought it from Velo Orange.  From what I understand, it's also available from Jitensha Studios.

One reason I decided to set up the stem that way was to de-clutter the front.  Also, having a cantilever brake means having a hanger, and whoever originally set up this bike didn't leave much room in the steering column for much besides the headset.  There was enough room for the hanger, but I wanted to put something else in there:

Yes, I made the plunge:  I'm using a decaleur, also from Velo Orange.  More to the point, I'm using it on a great piece of kit:  RuthWorks' Randonneur bag.   

I've written about his Brevet and wedge bags in other posts.  Ely Rodriguez makes RuthWorks bags and seems to have a great time doing it.  Not only does he offer canvas (and other materials) in all sorts of colors; he pays great attention to detail.  So, his bags are full of all sorts of thoughtful features as well as great workmanship.

I love the way the top flap opens.  I suspect that it provides greater protection against the elements, though I have not yet ridden with this bag in bad weather.  

It's hard to believe that in all of the years I've ridden, I've never before used a front bag like this one, much less a decaleur.  It seems that those things disappeared from the face of the Earth right around the time I got involved in cycling.  I didn't even see them in Europe:  It seems that all of the traditional manufacturers of bicycle luggage and the stuff you need to use them on bikes disappeared, or started to use synthetics where they once used cotton duck canvas and more modern methods of attaching the bags. 

And, it seemed that the world was forgetting about how to position bags. (I actually had a Specialites TA front bag that I never used because no one had any idea of where to find the hardware I'd need for it.)  One ironic result was that we were always complaining that our handlebar bags bounced:  All of the lore and science that would have told us that they were really meant to be front bags, not handlebar bags (which meant they'd mount lower on the bike , close to the wheel rather than high up on the handlebar) disappeared like the scrolls and books that burned in the Library of Alexandria.

What this means is that I wish I'd known about bags like this, and how to use them, when I took my European, New England and California-Nevada tours.  I would have been so much more comfortable about carrying the Honeywell Pentax I brought on those trips!  And, let's face it, with a bag like the one Ely made for me, I would have been riding in style.

My bag includes large velcro strips that wrap around the rails of a front rack.   It might be possible to use the bag with just those straps and no decaleur.  (Perhaps the bag could also be lashed to the rack's "tombstone".)  It's also possible to use it with something like the Nitto F15 handlebar support or the Rixen Kaul "Klick Fix" system.  Either of those supports, however, attach to the handlebars themselves and render the bag more like a traditional handlebar bag.

If you order one of these bags, you can ask Ely to make it without the loops for the handlebar rack or the Velcro straps.  You can also ask him to make other accommodations for whatever racks and attachment systems you use.  He's very willing to work with you on helping you get a bag you like.  He even makes "vegan" bags, without leather or other animal products.

Now, I grant that this is my first experience of using such a piece of bike luggage.  So I can't honestly compare it to other boxy Randonneur bags.  However, I can wholeheartedly recommend this piece of kit for its details, convenience features and Ely's workmanship.

And, oh, can you tell that I love the color?  It's called Nantucket Red, but it's really more like a salmon pink.  My other RuthWorks bags in that color are great on my other Mercians, with the purple/green "flip=flop" (#57) finish.  I was tempted to ask him to make a gray or black bag for Vera, but I think I like this color with the British Racing Green finish.  What do you think?

(You've noticed another bag on the rear of Vera.  I'll write about it soon.)

A Good Bike Mystery

While I was riding yesterday afternoon, this bike caught my eye:

If you've been following this blog, you know my favorite color is purple, followed by certain shades of green and certain shades of blue.  Well, that bike is one of those certain shades of green. But somehow I knew it wasn't the only reason to look at it.

Clarks of Harrow.  Hmm, I've never seen that name on a bike before.  Obviously, it wasn't made by them.  But a close-up look provided me with some possible clues:

 

 

 

The lamp bracket on the front fork is almost a dead-giveaway that the bike was made in Great Britain for the British market.  Another clue to the English nature is this:

Flat-plate wraparound seat stay caps were used almost exclusively by bike makers in Blighty.  After establishing with near-certainty that it is indeed a British bike, I wondered who might have built it.

One possible clue lies here:

The lug, while fairly simple, seems to have been scalloped to a point in the manner of another English maker:

This 1966 Witcomb L'Avenir shows a lug style it often used during the 1960's and '70's.  Then again, so did a number of other British builders, including Holdsworth and Claud Butler.  I don't think Mercian ever used such a lug shape, and I simply can't imagine Hetchins having employed it.

In brief, it was a pretty nice bike that caught my eye. About the only components that looked original were the seatpost (I couldn't see an identifying mark) and Campagnolo steel headset.  The rest of the parts included a Velo Orange crankset, new Dia Compe 610 brakes, Shimano Tiagra derailleurs and Tiagra hubs laced to Sun M-13 rims and shod with Continental Gatorskin tires.

The D.I.R.T. On This Derailleur

I've found a derailleur that not even Michael Sweatman, the author of Disraeligears, has.  At least it's not in the "A Riot of Colour" section of his website.

If I'd found the derailleur in the photo about fifteen years ago--when they were, most likely, last made--I might've installed it on my Voodoo Wazoo.  After all, that bike was orange and had a few green parts!

The Sachs D.I.R.T. derailleur series was, as its name indicates, intended for mountain bikes.  During the early 1980's, Sachs--a German company known mainly for its coaster brake- and internally geared-hubs--bought French derailleur maker Huret, along with Maillard, a Gallic concern that manufactured hubs (including the well-conceived but poorly-executed Helicomatic), freewheels, pedals and other components, sometimes under the "Normandy" and "Atom" brands.  Later in the decade, Sachs was absorbed into SRAM but continued to make its derailleurs in France under their own name.  

The D.I.R.T. series, along with the company's Quartz and Success road changers, were among the last derailleurs produced on French soil.  (According to Frank Berto in The Dancing Chain, the Mavic Mektronic was probably the last.)  They, and other Sachs derailleurs, were actually well-designed and -made.  But Sachs never developed an integrated drive train group and thus never competed with the Shimano juggernaut.

Now that I think of it, the derailleur in the photos wouldn't look bad on the bike I wrote about yesterday!

Riding A Bend

Back when I was racing, I, like many of my peers in the peloton (and other cyclists who had racing fantasies) judged bikes and components mainly on one trait: stiffness.

This was especially true of frames and, specifically, the rear triangle.  Any flexing, we thought, wasted our energies and robbed us of precious seconds.  

Of course, a bike that rides like a jackhammer can subvert one's ambitions just as much as a "wet noodle".  After all, if you're getting bounced around, all of that vibration can wear on you, no matter how tightly-put together you are.  

I was thinking about that when I came across a bike none of us would have gotten anywhere near:

A completely-bendable frame.  It makes me think of a joke I heard about an all-rubber suspension bridge.  If nothing else, the bike solves the problem of how to lock up both wheels when you're parked in a high-theft area.

The frame flops loose with the flick of a lever.  I wonder whether there's any way to accidentally jar the lever while riding.  I take that back:  If I were riding the bike, I don't think I'd want to find out!

Even Creepier Than A Thief In The Night

The day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.

So are we warned in Paul's first letter to the Thessalonians.

A thief in the night is certainly cause for worry.  After all, I'm sure I'm not the only cyclists who's lost his or her steed to one.  I've also lost parts on bikes I've parked overnight in the path of some random crook.

As poignant as Paul's metaphor is, I have to wonder what he'd have said about another nocturnal perp.

The guy, who was caught on video, was walking around the Times Square area with a bag of feces.  (Back in the day, shadowy characters prowled the area with bags full of other things, some of which they sold to passerby!)  In the wee hours of one morning last week, he smeared the contents of his sack over the seats of Citibikes parked in the dock across the street from the Al Hirschfeld theatre, where "Kinky Boots" has been playing.

Worst of all, some people actually took the bikes without checking the seats.

This incident gives new meaning to the decals that have been applied to some of the city's rental bikes:

When I heard about the perp, who hasn't been caught, I imagined a(n) (over)zealous police officer stopping him and ordering him to open the contents of his bag!