Bicycle Report Cards, State-By-State

It's that time of year.

Yesterday, rough winds did shake the darling buds of May. Today the air is calmer but for some--especially my students, not to mention me--it is not a temperate day, lovely as it is.

You see, the semester is nearing its end. Some time after Memorial Day, my students will get their report cards in the same sense that we "dial" telephone numbers and "ship" items.   That is to say, no school or university (at least, none that I know of) uses cards anymore:  Students get their grades online.

In a similar fashion, all fifty states of the US have just received "report cards."  They weren't, however, graded in English or Math or History.  Their grades didn't come from me or any other professor or teacher, and their cards weren't issued by any educational insititution.

Instead, they came from the League of American Bicyclists. The "grades"--or, more precisely, scores--each state received were in categories that included Legislation & Enforcement, Policies & Programs, Infrastructure & Funding, Education & Encouragement and Evaluation & Planning.

This is not CNN's electoral map.  Yes, the states deemed most "bike friendly" are in blue.  But the next-most "bike friendly" are red.  Strangely, the states labelled least bike-friendly are in green!

So, which state finished at "the top of the class"?  That would be the Evergreen State--Washington--which also finished first last year.  So, while the efforts of advocates and planners there are to be commended, the ranking is bittersweet, as the state still scored only 66 out of 100 in both years for "bicycle friendliness".

Its neighbor to the south, Oregon, came in sixth and California eighth. Some of the states you'd expect to be high in the rankings--such as Massachusetts (fourth) and Colorado (seventh) are also there.  Not surprisingly, most of the states near the top of the table are in the Far West or Northeastern parts of the US. 

Also not surprisingly, the most of the lowest-ranking states are in the South, with Alabama bringing up the rear (with a score of 12.4, which was actually worse than their 2014 tally of 17.4) and Kentucky immediately in front of them.

My home state of New York ranked 29th in both years, though its score improved slightly from 33.9 to 35.4.

If my students had scores like those, I'd have appointments with my department chair and a dean--and they wouldn't be for lunch!

I Hate It So Much I'd Pay You To Take It. Buy It!

From the time I became a serious cyclist, I always heard other cyclists--and bike shop employees--say, "Saddles are a personal thing."  Then they would insist that whatever saddles they rode would be right for you.

A saddle indeed the most personal choice most cyclists make.  A rider's anatomical quirks as well as riding style (which can be just as quirky) are among the factors that go into choosing what one will sit on while riding.  For the lucky cyclist, the first saddle he or she tries will be the right one.  For the less fortunate, choosing a saddle will be a process of trial and error.

Given what I've mentioned, perhaps it's not surprising that cyclists are more passionate--and, sometimes, defensive--about their chosen saddle than about any other component they pick.  And riders are more vehement in expressing dislike about seats they don't like than about, say, shifters that don't work out for them.

Very few cyclists, though, have expressed their hatred of a saddle quite like this:

Well, I can tell you exactly how many miles I've put on this saddle:  1203 over 14 days.  I know this because having had several leather Brooks saddles previously and loving every one of them, I didn't give a second thought to throwing it on right before a tour.  I'm an idiot and I know better.  Well, 14 days was long enough to develop a truly vitriolic hatred for this saddle.  I loathe this saddle.  I have never loathed a saddle as much as this one.  And I've used some truly horrific saddles in my day.  None compare.

I would pay you to take this thing off my hands.

Anyhow, the Cambium C15 is the Swallow-style (ie, same dimensions) version of the non-leather Cambium series and while it was billed as black, it's more of a brown.  Perhaps it faded as a result of all of the scorn I've heaped upon it, perhaps it was the sun or maybe it was always that way.  This was part of the initial C15 run, not the more recent version.  It's otherwise in good shape.  Everything is rebuildable in any event.

It should go without saying, but it won't, no returns on this one.

See my other auctions, I'm selling a few others.

The above is an eBay listing.  I found it very funny that the lister, in trying to sell a saddle, says, "I would pay you to take this thing off my hands".

What's even funnier is that, as I write this, the saddle has fourteen bids and a price of $61.65, with thee days and four hours remaining in the auction. 

Hmm...Maybe the seller is operating on the Second Avenue Deli principle.  You know:  People love the chicken soup and other delicacies at SAD, but they'd be disappointed if the waiters weren't rude and sarcastic.  In fact, some people go there precisely because the servers are so inhospitable. 

So, perhaps, the next time I sell something on eBay, I should say how much I hated it and that I wouldn't wish it on an enemy.  Very interesting.


 

Riding To Work

"How do you do it?"

You've probably heard that from at least one colleague if you bike to work.

You suggest that co-worker could do the same.  You'll most likely hear one of these objections:

"It's too far!"

"What about the cars?  Trucks?  Buses?"

"It looks like a lot of hassle."

"How can I wear these clothes and ride?"

"What if it rains?"

"What if I get a flat tire?"

"I'll be too tired when I come in!"

The funny thing is that even after people see that you ride every day, that you haven't missed a day of work and you're refreshed, in a good mood and productive, they're still convinced cycling to work won't work for them.

Now, if someone's  commute is a two-hour drive or train ride one-way, it may well be "too far" to bike.  However, if such a commuter lives a couple of miles from a railroad station, he or she could benefit from pedaling there.  Said commuter could lock up a "clunker" at the station or ride a folding bike and bring it aboard the train, which would provide easy and quick transport from the train to the office.

From FunCheapSF

Someone who's not accustomed to riding in traffic does, of course, need grow accustomed to it.  That happens pretty quickly:  The key the is to remember that the bicycle is a vehicle, with the privileges and responsibilities that attach to it. Of course, one shouldn't pedal in an interstate, or even on the shoulder of one.  Which leads me to my next point:  Bike lanes are not, in any way, safer than streets (especially given how poorly-designed and -constructed some lanes are).  The best way to ride is to take a lane, keep to a line and remain as visible as possible to drivers. Do that, and cars, trucks and other motor vehicles will just seem like bigger fish in the sea you're swimming.

All of the other objections noncyclists raise are about issues that can be planned for or around.  Use good tires, and flats are less frequent than expected.  When they happen, they can be fixed or a tube replaced, and everyone should to make such a repair (or ride in the vicinity of bike shops that will be open during your commute).  As far as weather goes:  A new bike commuter can decide whether to ride "rain or shine".  For some, it might be a good idea not to ride in bad weather, at least in the beginning.  

And, when it comes to work attire, people have all sorts of ways of dealing with it. Some can ride in the clothes they wear on the job.  Others can duck into a bathroom and change.  (If you work in a college or school, you might have access to locker rooms and showers).  Still others keep changes of clothes at work. 

I think that the real objection that underlies the ones people usually express is that they'll "stand out" if they ride to work.  They might be seen as "weird", eccentric or vaguely subversive. I can understand that:  I have worked in offices and for organizations in which I was the only one riding to work.  I'm sure some co-workers laughed at me, and in at least one school in which I taught, students had less respect for me than they would have had I driven in to teach them.  Now there are many more bike commuters here in New York, as well as in other cities, than there were in my youth.  However, if you are living in working in a suburban area (or a city that feels more suburban than, say, San Francisco or Boston), you may have to "educate" your co-workers--not to mention the drivers you encounter on your way, who may not realize that you have as much right to (and have probably paid more for) the road. 

In one way, bicycle commuting is like a lot of other things:  Do it long enough, and it will seem absolutely normal--to you and, later, to those who try to dissuade or discourage you from it.  And you'll wonder how you didn't do it! 

The Curtain

Yesterday, for Mother's Day, I did the things one should do. In other words, I called my mother and all of the other people in my life who are mothers.

I probably could have gone to brunch with some straight women and gay men I know. Really.  Here in New York, there are restaurants and diners and cafes where you see exactly that:  divorced or otherwise single mothers within a decade or two of my age who may or may not have, or have had children, and men who--depending on when they "came out"--might have been married to such women.  Or, perhaps, they never were married, or they are married now to men and have kids.  Whatever the case, they take Mother's Day as seriously as anyone else.

I wouldn't have minded spending a quiet Sunday morning and/or afternoon with any of them.  But a mist sashayed across the higher windows of the taller buildings near my apartment and across the East River in Manhattan. But there was no threat of rain and, even though the sky was mostly overcast, it somehow hinted that the sun would come through.  And the air was pleasantly cool.

So, of course, I hopped on my bike--Arielle, my Mercian Audax,to be exact--and pedaled toward Forest Park, then the Rockaways.  As Woodhaven Boulevard turned to Beach Channel Boulevard, the mist fluttered like a scrim over treetops in front of low brick and shingle houses, and turned to a lazy ripple over the elevated train tracks of Liberty Avenue.  

After riding through Howard Beach, I glided--yes, I was feeling really good--across the bridge to a narrow strip of land that was nearly obliterated during Superstorm Sandy.  On either side of me, the mist hemmed the waves of Jamaica Bay.  Then, after I crossed another bridge into the Rockaways, I rode along the ocean.   The sun peeked out and gave the illusion of dissipating the clouds and fog.  Instead, the mist draped itself over houses and trees and the Atlantic Beach bridge, all just ahead of me.

That drape would not turn itself into a curtain of clouds or a shroud of rain.  Instead, it hung in the air--always about fifteen minutes ahead of me, it seemed--all the way to Point Lookout.

Then I rode with the mist behind me--and a veil of swirled clouds, again with no hint of rain, ahead of me all the way to the bridge from the Rockaways to Beach Channel.  On that strip of land almost lost to Sandy, the clouds broke.  I looked behind me:  The mist dissipated.  And sunlight filled the streets lined with patches of lawns and gardens that drank what fizzled and hissed from sprinklers.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day!

I suspect that many of gave your mothers flowers, candy or any of the other gifts we associate with this day.  I'll bet that none of you gifted your mother one of these:

In case you want to buy one for Mom, look here.

If you did, you must have even more of a cycling family than the Simeses or Herses ever were!

Many years ago, I gave my mother a Peugeot mixte for Mother's Day.  As far as I know, she never rode it.  It's probably the one and only thing for which I've ever had to forgive her! ;-)

But there have been so many other things she's done to make it possible for me to ride and do many of the other things that have made my life interesting and fulfilling.  And, while she never accompanied me on any of my bike trips, she has been with me on the journey of my life--and in the particular the part that brought me from being her son to being her daughter.  

Thank you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day to you!

Il Giro Inizia Oggi

Probably the one race everyone's heard of is the Tour de France.  It's one of the oldest and most-promoted multi-day stage races and winning--or even competing in--it is regarded as one of the greatest accomplishments in all of sports.

Today, this year's edition of what is probably the second-best known race--The Giro d'Italia--begins in the Riviera city of San Lorenzo with a Team Time Trial that will end in San Remo.  Alberto Contador, winner of the 2007 and 2009 Tours, is an early favorite to win the Giro.  So is Tasmanian cyclist Richie Porte.




Contador says he is not motivated by the Tour alone--a marked contrast to other cyclists, including, ahem, a certain American--but wants to accomplish something last accompllished by Marco Pantani in 1998:  win both the Giro and the Tour.  He is motivated in part, he claims, by the crash that probably cost him a chance at winning last year's Tour.

Winning both races no mean feat because, like the Tour, the Giro encompasses three weeks of near-daily cycling over widely varying terrain in a number of different riding disciplines:  individual time trials, team time trials, sprints and long road stages, some up and down mountains.  As long as he doesn't crash again or have some other sort of bad luck, he'll complete the Giro and have about a month to recuperate before starting the Tour.  (Of course, "recuperating" for racers at such a high level involves riding more miles than most of us do on our "big ride" days!)  At the starting line in Utrecht on 4 July, he'll be up against cyclists--including some of his own teammates--who haven't ridden the Giro will therefore be fresher.

Contador sandwiched a 2008 Giro win between his Tour victories.  In that same year, he won the Vuelta a Espana--commonly considered the third great stage race of cycling--and reprised those victories in 2012 and 2014.  To date, no one has won all three races in the same year, though several of the sport's greats--including Fausto Coppi, Jacques Anquetil, Eddy Mercx, Bernard Hinault and Miguel Indurain--won two of the three in the same year.  

To state the obvious, if he takes both la maglia rosa and  le maillot jaune this year obvious, Contador  will be in elite company!
 

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!