Who's Walking Whom?

A few days ago, I mentioned people who "walk" their dogs while riding a bicycle.  I've actually seen big canines pull their owners along; other times, I winced when Yorkies and other pup-sized adult pooches couldn't keep up with owners who were barely pedaling at all--or were even dragged.

Then, when I saw this, I thought people were trying to "walk" their kids:





 
Or was it the other way around? 

Of course, the real purpose of the harness is to help the kid learn to ride without training wheels.  I don't know anyone who's tried it, but it looks like it might be a good idea.

One Way To Commemorate This Day

Today, on Martin Luther King Day, I thought it would make sense to share something I learned just recently:  He actually gave his "I Have A Dream" speech--albeit in a slightly different form-- for the first time in Detroit, some two months before the whole world heard him deliver it from Washington.

It's interesting that such a fact has been all but lost to history, especially when one considers how much sense it makes.  After all, he made his speech in Detroit right around the time it became a majority-black city.  Also, King had, by that time, realized that the struggles of the labor movement were part of an overall struggle for justice, and no city has ever been more emblematic of the American labor movement than Detroit.

It's thus fitting that there's a "Tour  de Troit" taking place today. If today's weather in the Motor City is anything like what it normally has at this time of year, I give "props" to whoever rides it.  

The name of the ride is kind of funny.  The name of the city itself means "strait" in French; Francophone settlers who came by way of Quebec named the then-settlement for "le detroit du lac Erie", which separates it from what is now Windsor, Ontario.

(If you are under-age, or of delicate sensibilities, please skip over everything else in this parenthetical element.  The second syllable--"troit"--means "narrow" and is pronounced the way Anglophones pronounce a vulgar term for a part of the female anatomy.  In fact, it's believed that British soldiers in World War I introduced the term in to the English-speaking world.)

Anyway, congratulations to everyone who is riding today. And thank you for everything, Dr. King!

A Matter Of Condiitoning?

In response to the post I wrote yesterday, Steve A made some really good points.

For one, the US states with the lowest rates of cycling and walking to work were, for the most part, developed later than the ones with the highest rates.   Those states have sprawling metropoli—As Steve points out, Dallas-Fort Worth is half the size of the Netherlands!—in stark contrast to more concentrated cities like New York.

Newer conurbations, for the most part, were surrounded by open land:  Think of Las Vegas, for example.  They were not constrained by water, as New York, Boston and San Francisco are, or by established communities or other natural or artificial boundaries.  And the sprawl of cities like Las Vegas and Jacksonville, FL was enabled, in large part, by the multilane highways that were carved through them.

Moreover, most of the newly-developed cities in the Sunbelt did not build meaningful—or any—mass-transit systems.  As cities and suburbs sprawled, the lack of trains, buses, trolleys and other public vehicles essentially forced dependency on the automobile that would have been merely enabled by the highways.

(In stark contrast, the bike-friendly cities of Europe have expanded their boundaries little, if at all, since the Middle Ages. And they are not divided by expressways in the way American cities are.)

 

Another point Steve makes is that much Sun Belt development has been spurred or aided by air conditioners.  I recall now the times I’ve gone to Florida and Texas during the summer:  People spend most of their days indoors, in their homes or in movie theatres and shopping malls.  If they walk, cycle, run or engage in any outdoor activities, they’re out early in the morning or evening.  I usually did the same:  If I was outdoors in the middle of the day, I was in a body of water!

And, interestingly, the states with the lowest rates of cycling and walking to work are, mainly, the ones that depend on air conditioning.  Cities like Phoenix and Las Vegas would be all but nonexistent without it; they are also not cities known for cycling or pedestrian advocacy.

Hmm…Steve’s Law of the inverse relationship between cycling and the use of air conditioners.  Interesting.  That flies in the face of what most people (most non-cyclists, anyway) believe about the relationship between weather or climate and cycling.  It makes sense to me.  Good work, Steve.  Now, if you don’t want to take credit for it…;-)

Where The Bicycle Commuters Are

You don't ride in this weather, do you?

I can't begin to count how many times I've heard that question, or some version of it, between Thanksgiving and Easter.  

Granted, I don't ride as much during the months of short days and long cold spells as I do when flowers bloom and leaves begin to fall.  But I still ride to work most days during the winter.  I don't mind cold: I don't mind wet, but a combination of the two might drive me to the N train.  In fact, so far this year, I've used the MTA only once, when wind drove snow and sleet during the time I would have been riding to work.

I'll also grant you that I don't do as many rides of 20km or more as I do in, say, June.  But I think that has more to do with the number of daylight hours than with the temperature. I don't avoid riding in the dark altogether, but I prefer to follow dawn and lead dusk.  Also, I feel more motivated to take a ride after work when there's still some daylight left.

I mention my riding habits because of something I came across that seemed, at first, counter-intuitive (at least to most non-cyclists): The US state in which the highest percentage of the population walks or cycles to work is Alaska, which has the nation's coldest weather.

In fact, America's Land of the Midnight Sun is one of five states in which more than five percent of the population commutes by bike or on foot.  If you guessed that California is one of them, you'd be wrong.  Move one state up the coast: Oregon.  That's not surprising when one considers Portland's reputation as one of the world's most bike-friendly cities.  The City of Roses is the only major area in any of the five states in question that has what most people would describe as a mild winter.

As for the other three states, only one probably wouldn't surprise you:  New York.  The Empire State's high percentage of people who get to work on two wheels or two feet is concentrated in my hometown, the Big Apple.  Even so, upstate cities such as Syracuse, Rochester and Albany have surprisingly high numbers of people who use their own power to get to the office or wherever they work.  That, even though upstate New York winters aren't the sort many people would call "mild". 

OK: Alaska, Oregon and New York.  So which are the other two?, you ask.  No, not Arizona or New Mexico.  Texas?  Actually, the Lone Star State has one of the lowest rates of cycling and walking to work.  Florida does a bit better, but not much.


 


The other two states in which more than five percent of the population cycles or walks to work are---wait---Vermont and Montana.  

I've never been to Montana, but I have an e-mail pal (What's a better term for the modern version of the pen-pal?) who has told me about waking up to -15C weather before Columbus Day.  Having ridden in the Green Mountain state in all parts of the year, I can tell you that there's a good reason why old-time  Vermonters joke that their state has two seasons:  winter and the season between Fourth of July and Labor Day.  

But, having spent a fair amount of time riding in Vermont, I'm not surprised to find it on the list:  Wherever I rode, I encountered other cyclists.  It's one of those rare places that both breeds and attracts independent spirits.  

More to the point, Vermonters' habits, and those of the cylo-commuters in New York, Oregon, Montana and Alaska underscore a point I've made in other posts, and which others with greater expertise than mine have confirmed:  How much--or, for that matter, whether--people pedal has very little to do with the weather or climate.

Just look at Europe:  the cities and countries with the most bike commuters are in the north:  think Amsterdam, Copenhagen, Malmo. That all but mirrors the pattern in the US.

Why is such the case?  Well, I think--as I have said in earlier posts--cycling thrives in areas where there's an infrastructure, if you will, of cycling.  I'm not talking about bike paths:  Rather, I think advocacy organizations for cyclists (as well as pedestrians and mass transportation) and other formal and informal networks do more to encourage people to get out of their cars.  

Even more important, I believe, is a consciousness of, and respect for, cyclists among those who are behind the while rather than on two.  That is what I found in France, Switzerland, Belgium and other parts of Europe in which I've ridden:  The drivers always seem to understand how much space you need, how quickly you can stop and start on a bike and carious other intricacies of cycling.  One reason is, I believe, that a driver is more likely to have a "double life", if you will, as a cyclist than someone who's plying American roads in an SUV.

I know, from experience, that to the extent that such consciousness can be found in the US, it present in New York and Vermont.  From what I've read and heard, it also exists in Oregon, Alaska and Montana.  And it's nowhere near as prevalent in other parts of the US in which I've ridden.

And They Used To Say I Was An Animal On My Bike...

Every once in a while, I see someone "walking" his or her dog while riding a bicycle.  I have probably seen it most often on or around beaches, especially in Florida.  However, I've also seen it in parks and even on streets here in NYC.

"A Dog's Pace" by Carolee Clark.

Sometimes I wish I could do the same with Max and Marlee. I could carry them in the baskets on my LeTour, I guess.  The only problem is that I don't know how I would get Max into a basket, as he doesn't like to be picked up and is no longer the climber he was in his youth, and that Marlee would never sit in a basket long enough for me to start riding.

I once rode about two kilometers carrying a little Yorkie in my cocked left arm and my right hand on my handlebar.  I'd found her wandering through a busy intersection where she was in imminent danger of becoming roadkill. No one seemed to know where she came from and I rode, hoping to find a shelter or a vet's office.  Finding neither, I took her to a precinct house, where a burly sergeant fell in love with her.

Max would never stand--or, more precisely, sit or curl up--for such a ride.  Marlee might, for a couple of minutes.  Then her nervousness would get the best of her and she'd wriggle her way into a fall onto the pavement.

I find it ironic that in other parts of the world, people on bikes carry all kinds of other animals.  I saw a man ride with a monkey on his shoulder in Marseille, France and another man with a lizard standing guard on his sternum as he navigated the alleyways of Rome.

But they had nothing on this guy, with a goat along for the ride, in Uganda.  I just hope the passenger gave him a hefty tip:

From Art Propelled

  

Some Repair Techniques Never Change

The blue Schwinn Varsity, circa 1976, looked like others I'd seen.  That is, until I turned the corner. 

When I worked in bike shops, I saw some strange, interesting and unusual "repairs" customers had done themselves.  Most of the time, I could see what they were trying to fix.

But on the blue Varsity I saw today, I had to wonder.  At first, I thought the tape was an attempt to repair a flat. That's what it probably was indeed.  

However, I also couldn't help but to ask myself, rhetorically, whether the person actually rode the bike with the tape wrapped around the rim.  After all, I could only imagine what that tape did to the braking.

Also, I found myself thinking about the time a customer brought in a bike because the front wheel was "bumping" as he rode.  I realized that he meant "thumping" after I saw the tape wrapped around his tire and rim, much as it was on the Varsity I saw today.

The man begged me not to unwrap the tape--duct tape, to be exact.  I explained that I couldn't replace his tube--which he almost certainly needed--or his tire (probably needed) unless I could remove them.

"But that'll ruin the wheel!", he exclaimed.

Of course, I removed the tape and saw a crack along the surface of the rim, nearly from one tire bead to the next.  Probably the only reason the rim hadn't broken was that the cracks didn't begin or end at a spoke hole:  It'd cracked along the smooth, solid area of the rim.

Before that day, I knew that all sorts of things could be held together with duct tape.  But, until that moment, I'd never seen a bicycle rim fixed that way.

At that moment, Frank, the owner of Highland Park Cyclery walked by and made it clear to the man that if we could not replace his wheel (It wouldn't have been worth rebuilding with a new rim), tire and tube, we would not work on his bike.  

The man grabbed his bike and, with a huff, pushed it out of the shop.

You guessed what he did when he got out onto the sidewalk:  He wrapped duct tape (He'd had a roll in his bag!) around the cracked rim and tire.  



 

Well, It's Better Than A Ticket, Anyway...

If you park your bike has a basket on it, and you park on the street, you might find that your vehicle has been turned into a recptacle.

I've found all sorts of things in my wicker and wire porters:  beer bottles, wrappers for every kind of food you can imagine, chicken bones, pizza crusts--and for a device that's named for a citizen of an ancient Greek city but won't infect your computer--as well as books and newspapers.  I've even encountered articles of clothing and, yes, bike parts, most of which were unwearable or unusable.   

Most of the time, it's an annoyance (except, of course, when I find a book or a newspaper), but I guess it's better than having a saddle or pedals stolen, or tires slashed.  Yes, those things have also happened when I've parked my bike.

But I don't think I've ever encountered anything quite like what was deposited in the Wald front basket on my LeTour:

CDs?  Hmm....Maybe it's some rare recording:  Something I'd keep--or sell on eBay.

Closer inspection revealed something entirely different:

I wonder if the person who left those Yoga CDs knows me, or has seen me ride.  Could there be a message?

Smart Dumbbells And Other Tools

Recently, I saw this tool in a bike shop:



 The mechanic referred to it as a "smart dumbbell wrench".  

My first reaction is, of course, that a "smart dumbbell" is an oxymoron.  Then I remembered a tool I carried on bike rides--and sometimes even when I was off the bike--not so long ago.

 

This is the not-smart dumbbell wrench.  Actually, given the time it was invented, it was a smart tool, as recessed allen-bolt fittings were still uncommon.  As recently as the 1980's, Campagnolo's Gran Sport derailleur attached to the dropout with a hex-head bolt.

The tool was also called a "dog bone" wrench.  A smart--or, at least, a modern-- dog bone wrench might be this:

 

I'm sure you've seen it before.  I've mentioned it on this blog: the Park Tool MT-1.  It now serves the purpose my old dumbbell wrench did back in the day:  I even have one on my keyring.  

It really is a smart tool in all sorts of ways, not the least of which are its shape and style, which makes it sleeker and much easier to carry than the old dog bone or dumbbell wrench.

Speaking of old-style wrenches:  How many of you still have one of these?

 

 If you bought a Raleigh three-speed in the 1970s or earlier, you more than likely got one of these with it.  The smaller "tombstone"-shaped opening was, if I'm not mistaken, intended for installing or removing pedals, though you can't get as much leverage as I think you need, especially if you're removing a pedal that's been in the crank for a while.

Back in the day, we didn't use the term "multi-tool".  Nobody believed that  a spanner (or wrench to you Yanks) could be made to handle everything short of a full bike assembly, contrary to what some multi-tool designers of today seem to think.  We usually carried a small adjustable wrench or a small spanner with 8 and 10 millimeter heads, 6 and 7mm allen keys and a few other things, depending on how long we intended to ride and how far we planned to be from our favorite bike shops.

That way of thinking, I believe, gave rise to mini toolkits, like this one:

 

If you bought a Peugeot before the late 1970s, you got one of these Mafac tool kits with it.  They were pretty smart, actually, given the bikes and components of the time.  About ten years ago, you could get one for practically nothing.  Today, with all the collectors and others who are doing "period" restorations, and those who are building nouveau retro, if you will, bikes, those kits are fetching decent money.  Just recently, someone sold eight new-old-stock kits with the brown pouch (instead of the black one shown) for $39.00 each.

Are they smarter than the dumbbell wrench?  That depends...

Note:  Some Gitane bikes came with the Mafac kit in a bag shaped like the Mafac but with softer material and printed with Gitane's logo:

Would You Park Here?

The bicycle has often been called the father of the automobile.  Now, I guess, we'd say it's the parent or the progenitor, so as not to be sexist.

However you say it, it makes sense:  Some of the pioneers of the automotive world--including none other than Henry Ford himself--started off as bicycle mechanics or builders.  And, of course, the very thing that made cars faster and more versatile than carriages--the pneumatic tire--was invented for bicycles.

But, like any other parent-child relationship, the one between cars and bikes is often uneasy.  That's the reason why I'm not so sure of how I feel about this bike parking rack:



From London Cycling Campaign

Je Suis Charlie, Nous Sommes Charlie

For today, I am going to forget what I normally write about on this and my other blog--sort of.

In terms of content, this post will not resemble others I've written.  However, It will express concern for everything that makes this blog, and others, possible.  In fact, some of those things even make it possible for me to do the very thing I write about on this blog:  ride a bike.

You see, in some cultures, women aren't allowed to ride bicycles--or go to school, read, write, teach or do much of anything besides bear a man's children and submit to his demands.  In such places, someone like me doesn't have the right to be a woman--let alone a cyclist--at all.

That is the reason why I am writing today to express my solidarity with all of those people who rallied in my home town as well as London, Tokyo, Istanbul, Montreal, Berlin and many other cities around the world--and, of course, in France, most prominently in Paris.

I have lived in the City of LIght.  So have some people I've loved and with whom I've worked.  They've been native-born French people--some of ancient Gallic and Frankish heritage, others born to families who emigrated to France from other places in this world.  They've been Catholics, Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists and people who didn't adhere to any formal religion or philosophy, or who believed in nothing at all beyond this life.  They've been wealthy, poor and, mainly, in-between.  

The thing is, they all knew that their right to be any, all  or none of the things I've mentioned was protected under the laws of their country.  And, while some expressed resentment or condescension toward America--or, more precisely, toward our misconceptions or simple unawareness of our position in the world, they all have expressed respect, admiration and sometimes even wistfulness for the openness of our society and the generous spirit of Americans they've met. 

Demonstrators hold up pencils to express ther support for freedom of expression.

The rallies, like funerals and memorial services, are about grieving those who died in the attacks on the Chrlie Hebdo offices and the kosher supermarket in Paris.  But, just as important, they are a reminded of what we--I, the people I've mentioned, and everyone else--need to do:  to live, as the people we are, free to pursue our dreams, honor or values, to love those we love--and, always, to speak the truth, whether through simple facts, irony, images, humor or in some other way.  We can't let those who murdered seventeen Parisians during the past week take that liberty, that right, away from us.

Je suis Charlie.  Nous sommes Charlie.