Jobst Brandt R.I.P.

Late yesterday, I learned about the passing of Jobst Brandt.

As “The Retrogrouch” and others have pointed out, he had a rare combination of skills and talents:  vast and deep technical knowledge, and the ability to communicate it clearly in everyday English that those of us who are less technically-oriented can understand.  He’s one of those people who didn’t let all of his theoretical knowledge get in the way of pure and simple common sense. 

 

Because of his qualities, he—whether or not it was his intention—helped to create, along with the late Sheldon Brown and a few others—something I’ll call, for lack of any other term, a communal wisdom base for cyclists.

For generations, cyclists in Europe (especially England and France), Japan and other places learned about places and ways to ride, and which equipment was and wasn’t worth buying, from their local clubs or other experienced cyclists they’d meet.  In the US, that infrastructure, if you will, was all but lost during the decades between World War I and the 1970’s Bike Boom.  There were a few who kept the flame flickering.  But if you wanted to find out what Fred (!) DeLong had to say about tires or gearing, Dick Swann’s ideas about frame structure and geometry or John Forester’s wisdom about cycling and traffic safety, you had to be near a bike shop or newsstand that had copies of the magazines in which they were published, or a library that had their books.

In other words, cycling in the US was basically a sea full of ships passing in the night.   As often as not, you learned what you learned by having the fortune to chance upon the right people (or publications) at the right time.  Such was the world I entered when I first became a dedicated cyclist during the Bike Boom.

What made this situation difficult for new cyclists was something I didn’t understand at the time, or for many years afterward:  While the advice and wisdom your fellow riders shared with you was, usually sound, as it was based on experience, it didn’t come with a cogent explanation of why it was so.  Either the cyclist who gave it to you couldn’t analyze it technically, or he (the type I’m about to describe was usually male) was a “techie” who was on the frontiers of the autism spectrum.  I’m thinking now of a cyclist in my first club, a brilliant engineer who was the first person I saw riding a fixed gear outside of a track.  He proselytized for his setup but couldn’t explain the benefits of it in a way that made sense.

Jobst Brandt

When someone like Jobst Brandt discussed, for example, wheelbuilding or particular wheel components, you’d come away understanding wheels and their components better than you did before.  And the knowledge he imparted helped you to understand, among other things, why that newest boutique wheelset was probably a waste of money for you and just about anyone else who has to pay for his or her own equipment.  

Although he tended to favor the best classic equipment over the latest thing, I think “The Retrogrouch” is correct in saying that he’d bristle at being labeled a “retrogrouch”.  He didn’t praise vintage stuff just because it was vintage.  (If you don’t believe me, read what he says about Sturmey-Archer three-speed hubs.  And he was talking about the ones that were made before Sun Race took over SA!) Moreover, he wasn’t averse to trying to improve what was already available:  After all, he designed Avocet Fas-Grip tires, still some of the best road rubber many of us have ever ridden.  

In brief, the man knew the difference between real technological innovation and the mere appearance of it.  In making that difference clear to us, he allowed us to see how rare true technological innovation actually is (something he, as an engineer, no doubt understood better than most other people) and how the appearance of it is turned into marketing hype.

Arthur Godfrey was an avid hunter who later became an ardent conservationist in an era when such a conversion was all but unheard-of.  A reporter once asked him why he still displayed the animals’ heads and other hunting trophies.  “To remind me of how stupid I once was,” he replied. 

Likewise, I save my mangled Rev-Xs, Kysriums, carbon forks and other techno-junk to remind myself of how ignorant I was before I encountered Jobst Brandt.  I’ll miss him. So will countless other cyclists.

Shifting Gears--Literally

When I first became a dedicated cyclist--around the time that the '70's North American Bike Boom was peaking--all derailleur-equipped bicycles had gear clusters (freewheels) that screwed onto the rear hub.  

Cinelli Bivalent Hub, circa 1961

That is, all of the derailleur-equipped bicycles I saw.  I'd read and heard about the Cinelli Bivalent hub, which was produced for a few years during the 1960's.  Other than that, I believed, there was only one sprocket system for derailleur-equipped bike, and your only concern was whether the hub had British, French or Italian freewheel threads. 

And, as far as I knew, the first departures--apart from the Bivalent--from such a system came around 1980, when Maillard introduced its Helicomatic system and Shimano came out with what was then called the Freehub.

Shimano 600 Freehub system, circa 1981

Shimano's system was essentially the same any of today's hub-and-cassette systems, save for those of Campagnolo, which have a different spline pattern.  The only major difference between those early Freehubs and today's Shimano and SRAM ensembles is that the on old Freehubs, which had six cogs, five cogs slid onto splines and the smallest one screwed on, acting as the lockring.  On current hubs, all of the cogs are joined as a cassette that mounts on the splines and is held in place by a separate lockring.

Helicomatic.  From a 1984 Peugeot brochure

When I first saw the Helicomatic, I actually thought it was a better idea than the Freehub.  I still do, and I think it's a better concept than any of today's hubs with cassette bodies.  The problem with the Helicomatic--as with another "revolutionary" French component of the time, the Huret Duopar derailleur--is that while it was a great concept, it wasn't well-executed.  Maillard offered lower- and higher- priced models of Helicomatic, and they suffered from the same problems:  soft helical spines (the "bayonet" mount) that often gouged or stripped, rather weak axles that frequently broke and, on the racing model, smaller-than-normal ball bearings that caused the cones and races to wear quickly and, in a few cases, "explode."

But the Bivalent, Helicomatic and Freehub were not the first systems to depart from the screw-on freewheel cluster.  Just recently, I became aware of another, which also employed its own unique rear derailleur.

In the early 1930s, Alex Shuttleworth and William Hill paptented the TriVelox system.  It had three rear cogs--which was all most derailleurs of the time could handle.  It also used a 1/8" pitch chain,  in contrast to today's 3/32" derailleur chains.  

But most improtant of all, the TriVelox derailleur--unlike those of today--shifted gears by moving the sprockets rather than the chain.  Apparently, the sprockets were fitted onto splines, much like the Helicomatic or Freehub cassettes. And the derailleur remained fixed while the freewheel block moved sideways on the hub.

Why was such a system developed?  It was a response to, as Michael Sweatman of Disraeligears says so eloquently, "a peculiarly British fixation with chainline".  British cyclists, by and large, shunned derailleurs--as they would until the 1950s--because using them meant running the chain out of line on the extreme gears (small chainring with smallest rear cog or large chainring with largest rear cog).

As Sweatman tells us, they had a point.  Roller chains are meant to run in a straight line.  Thus, while riders in Albion had an exaggerated fear of the friction incurred by running a chain out of line, they were correct in believing that chains wear out more quickly when they're run out of line, let alone bent and flexed when shifted on conventional derailleurs.

Bicyclists of that time had good reason to think about longevity:  Chains were comparatively much more expensive than they are now.  That is why people were more fastidious about keeping their chains cleaned and lubed--and why many bikes came with oil-bath chain cases, something that couldn't be used with a derailleur.

The TriVelox system did what its creators intended.  Walter Greaves rode such a system for 45,000 miles (!) in one year and used only two chains and two sets of sprockets.  In other words, his chains lasted about ten or fifteen times as long as a chain made for a current 10- or 11-cog system.

TriVelox seems to have been in production for about two decades.  It was never a mass-market item, but it had its following, particularly with tandem riders.  One reason why it didn't become more popular is that it was much heavier than conventional derailleur/freewheel/hub combinations.  Another is that the system required a very wide rear axle to accomodate the sliding freewheel system. That, of course, limited its development to three speeds because additional cogs would have required an even bigger axle.

But most important of all, by the 1950s, most dedicated cyclists were realizing that derailleur systems were reliable and practical, and would allow for more than three cogs without widening hubs or axles.

I came across a TriVelox set on eBay.  I'd be very curious to see it--and other predecessors of today's cassette-and-hub systems--up close.

 

What Do You Turn Over In Your Garden?

During my rides over the past few days, I've seen more and more people gardening.  That makes sense, given that the weather has been warming up and we've had a lot of sunshine. 

We've all seen bicycle baskets used as planters.  As I'm learning, there are all sorts of ways bikes and parts can be used as garden structures.

Possibly the most ingenious is this trellis made from bicycle wheels:

From The Homestead Survival

Cycling Cinco de Mayo

As you know, today is Cinco de Mayo.

To commemorate the Mexican victory over France at the battle of Puebla (Yes, that's what this holiday is about!), I'm going for a ride.

First, I have to choose a bike. This looks like a good candidate:

From Supercompressor

Everyone knows you can't ride properly without the right outfit.  Now, since lycra hadn't been invented at the time of Puebla--and wouldn't look right with this bike--I'm thinking of more traditional garb:

From Teewallpapers

Of course, the right outfit isn't complete without the right shoes:

From Pinterest

and headgear:

From The Purple Passport

Of course, riding while holding off les militaires burns up lots of calories.  So, in the lovely pannier on the bike, I'll pack some of these:

From Cookie Cutter Search

At the end of the ride I'll have a proper Pueblana repast:

From All Wallpapers Gallery

Feliz  Cinco de Mayo, Amigas y Amigos!

May Is National Bike Month

May is National Bike Month here in the US.

I didn't know, until a few moments ago, that May was first designated as NBM in 1956.  It's now sponsored by the League of American Bicyclists, formerly known as the League of American Wheelmen.

The first Bike Month was celebrated two years before I was born.  I don't recall hearing anything about it when I was growing up.  Early in my childhood (the mid-1960s), there were few adult cyclists, at least in my milieu:  blue-collar Brooklyn.  Even when the '70's Bike Boom took off, I still didn't see very many cyclists a decade or more older than I was.  By that time, my family had moved to a small town in New Jersey that was on the verge of becoming the commuter suburb it would be by the time I left for college.

I have been told, however, that in NBM's early years, it was used to promote bicycle safety, mainly in schools.  At that time, some notions about bike safety were, shall we say, misguided.  (Oh, wait:  They are now, too!)  Bike safety films--some of which "The Retrogrouch" has posted on his blog--imparted such pearls of wisdom as riding the door lane of a street and being prepared to "stop a lot".

Putting kids in the door lane?  Hmm....Could it have been intended as a population control device--along with "Stik" shifters on Sting Rays and Choppers?

From The Orange County Bicycle Coalition

Anyway...Bike Month today seems to be more about generally encouraging people to ride, in particular to work or school.  It's become a way to promote cycling as part of a way to make communities more sustainable. My home state of New York has one of the highest percentages of people who cycle or walk to work. Interestingly, Alaska is also, along with "usual suspects" Oregon and Vermont, also among the highest.

Whatever its purpose, I'm all for NBM because I'm all for anything that celebrates cycling.  Then again, I also feel the same way about it that I feel about Black History Month, Women's History Month and all of the other "awareness" days, weeks and months:  They're great, but the people and things they commemorate should always be remembered.

Not The Five Boro Bike Tour

Everyone who knows I’m a cyclist, but isn’t one him- or herself, is going to ask whether I did the Five Boro Bike Tour.  The answer is “no”.

I am happy for those who did.  I simply don’t want to ride in such a mass of people, some of whom have no idea of how to ride in groups.  Also, I don’t want to be stuck on Staten Island for three hours, waiting to get on the Ferry. That happened the last time I rode the 5BBT.

Plus, I’m cheap.  I don’t want to spend $25 on a one-day ride, even if there’s a T-shirt at the end of it. 

Finally, I did fourteen of the first twenty 5BBTs, twelve as a rider and two as a  marshal.  There just isn’t any sense of discovery for me when I do the ride, which takes basically the same route every year.

I did, however, go on a ride.  As I did yesterday, I decided on a bike before I decided on a ride.  In this case, I took Vera—my green Miss Mercian mixte—out on another gorgeous day.  The weather was much like yesterday, but a bit warmer.  So I wore one less layer and used more sunscreen.

Vera, like Arielle, didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t have a planned itinerary.  She took me through on a journey through a place that showed no sign of the changing season, and another that couldn’t help but to remind one of the fact that today was one of the first warm days of the year.

Passing Forest Park and rolling down Woodhaven Boulevard as it turned onto Beach Channel Drive, I could have been on my way to the Rockaways again.  Much as I enjoy riding there, Vera wasn’t about to take me there, and I was happy for that.  

We detoured through the western side of Howard Beach,where tidal marshes stand between Jamaica Bay and 78^th Street.  The reeds look the way they did during the winter, the fall and the previous summer and spring.  They don’t even seem to have been affected by Superstorm Sandy—or a fire that raged a few months later.  

From there, I picked up the bike trail along Shore Parkway to the Canarsie Pier, where it seemed every male from the surrounding neighborhoods was fishing.

Then I continued along the Shore Parkway path.  Traffic along the highway was, by that time, at a near-standstill in both directions.  Some of the vehicles had bikes attached to them, but I suspect some were on the way to the piers, the beaches or any number of outdoor spaces.

Next stop:  Coney Island.  It simply wasn’t possible to ride the boardwalk because it was so crowded.  It was like the Fourth of July, except that nobody was swimming.  Although the ocean is warming, it’s still only about 10 degrees C (50F):  too cold for most people.  Lots of folks were walking, playing volleyball, building sandcastles or simply hanging out in the sand. Even Hasidic Jewish girls were taking off their shoes and treading the sand in their heavily-stockinged feet.

Up to that time, the wind had been blowing at or beside me.  That meant, of course, I’d have the wind at my back for a  good part of the ride home.  Even with all of its cracks and potholes, the ride up the Ocean Parkway bridle path  and past Prospect Park and the Williamsburg waterfront went quickly.  

So…I had two great days and two great rides on two great bikes.  I could hardly ask for more.

I PIcked The Bike And The Ride Followed

Mark Twain once said that if the world is coming to an end, go to Cincinnati.  Why?  Because, he explained, in the Queen City everything happens ten years later.

By that logic, if the apocalypse is supposed to happen this year, it will be delayed by a month.  Here we are at the beginning of May and the cherry blossoms have blossomed and tulips and other flowers are just starting to open.  Those spectacles usually delight us—at least in this part of the world—during the first week or two of April.

I’ll take them whenever they come.  So I was happy to see them today.  And the weather was delightful, almost exactly what it normally is at this time of year.  Scrims of high clouds floated like veils shed during a dance from a clear blue sky to reveal a sun just bright enough to waken all of the colors, all of the lives.  The wind, while brisk, didn’t bring a chill to the crisp spring air.

Can you ask for better riding conditions?  Well, all right, that depends on what you prefer.  But even those who like winter best of all seasons have said it—or, more specifically, this one—seemed as if it wouldn’t end.

So I knew I was going riding.  The funny thing is, I decided on which bike I would ride before I chose a route.  Somehow I simply could not keep myself away from Arielle, my Mercian Audax Special.  All right, I didn’t try.  The point is, I knew, practically from the moment I woke up, that I would ride Arielle today.

I found myself pedaling in the direction of—then crossing—the Queens spur of the RFK/Triboro Bridge.   That brought me to Randall’s Island, from which I could go to the Bronx or Harlem.  Either would offer me a number of possibilities.

The Bronx it was.  I pedaled to the north and east, along the Bronx and Hutchinson Rivers, toward Throgs Neck and City Island.  From there, I rode a path past horse stables, a golf course and the woods and marshlands that rim Long Island Sound.  It’s difficult to remember you’re in the Bronx, and if you follow the path, before long, you’re not.  

This house is in Pelham Bay Manor, just over the city line.  It’s not really unusual for that town.  However, I saw something interesting next to it:  a sign for the East Coast Greenway.  I followed parts of it through Westchester County.  Most of it is quiet pre-existing secondary roads, some in residential areas.  I don’t know how much of it is complete, as I followed it and seemed to lose it for a time, only to pick it up again unexpectedly.

I didn’t mind, really.  I didn’t encounter much traffic, even on the brief stretch of Route 1 where I wheeled beside the Mamaroneck Marina.  Everywhere I pedaled, the riding was great and people were lovely.  Even the drivers seemed more patient than usual.

Arielle took me to Connecticut—to the parks, the strip of high-end boutiques and harbor of Greenwich, to be specific.  I hadn’t ridden to the Constitution State since last year, at least.  The one difficult part of the ride came as soon as I crossed the state line, where a hill begins.  It’s not particularly long or steep, but it appears abruptly.  I managed it, but it showed me how little riding I’d done during the winter—and how flat my recent rides had been.

Then I pedaled home—into the wind.  I probably should have shifted into lower gears than I did, but I managed to keep on riding at a decent pace.  When I got home, I’d done my longest ride of the year, so far:  115km (72 miles).  It’s also my fourth 100km ride this year.  Hopefully, I’ll soon be doing more and even longer rides—or, at least, will be in something like the condition I was starting to get myself into last year.

May Day: Comrades Cycle

Today is May Day.  Wheelmen of the world, unite!

All right, that previous exhortation is sexist.  The League of American Wheelmen is, after all, now known as the League of American Cyclists.

Cyclists of the world, unite!  I guess that works.  It sacrifices the alliteration of "Wheelmen of the world" for the assonance of "Cyclists" and "unite".  To tell you the truth, I'd rather hear someone say "Nice assonance!" than "Love your 'literation!"

But seriously...I have just recently learned of something that is appropriate to talk about today:  a worker-owned cooperative bicycle shop.  It's located, appropriately enough, in Chicago and is called, even more appropriately, Comrade Cycles.  As in, "On the fifth day of Marxmas/ Dear comrade gave to me/ A five year plan."

 

I forget how the rest of that song goes.  I haven't heard it in years.  But although I have never considered myself a Marxist, I would go to a shop called "Comrade" on principle.

Apparently, it's a very well-liked shop.  Of course, any shop that's doing well offers any or all of these:  friendly and helpful staff, good repair work, fair prices and a good location.  From the reviews I've seen, Comrade offers all of them.  And it even has a manifesto!

I suspect that one reason why Comrade Cycles is so popular because most people, including cyclists, work for a living and so feel some sense of solidarity with other workers. And, as workers of whatever kind, we want to make enough money to buy a bike and have enough time off our jobs to enjoy it.  Plus, we tend to care a bit more about environmental issues, which affect workers more than those who are living off their labor.

And, even though many of us ride alone, we understand the importance of cooperation.  Most cyclists I've met are helpful and are very conscious of the fact that in helping other cyclists, we help ourselves.