If Brooks Really Wants To Do Fashion Accessories

I love Brooks saddles--at least, certain models.  (I don't think anyone can love all of the saddles that any company makes!)  I like their bar wrap, and their traditional seat bags look nice, too.   

However, sometimes it seems that they're turning into a fashion-accessory company.  I mean, it's one thing to offer stylish saddlebags, panniers and other luggage that attaches to bikes.  I even think it's fine that they're offering backpacks and messenger bags:  They look nice, but I doubt I'll ever buy them because I hardly ever use such bags anymore.

But I have to wonder when Brooks England (the name of the company) offers ladies' and gents' "cycling jackets" that look--and are priced--more like trench coats or safari jackets from Brooks Brothers.  How many cyclists are going to buy something like that?  

Then again, BE might be trying to develop non-cycling customers.  After all, we tend not to replace our Brooks Professionals or B17s very often!  

If Brooks England really wants to become the world's first bicycle fashion house, it should consider offering things like these:

From Voochee

What's more of a "gents'" accessory than cufflinks?  (I had four pairs of cufflinks, all of which were gifts.  I never wore any of them. Perhaps that's proof I was never a "gent".)  

The part of me that still loves the Sex Pistols wants to see those cufflinks made from the dirtiest, greasiest chains and used on the most pristine white shirts.  That's the sort of thing that, perhaps, a guy would wear if he'd just won the Lotto jackpot and was going to tell his boss what he really thought of the job and company.

Now, here's something Brooks could make for the ladies:

From Chainspirations

To make this "blossom" pendant, individual chain links were disassembled and the parts cleaned and anodized.  It's offered in a number of different main and accent colors, and with several different lengths of chain.

We've all seen bracelets made from lengths of bicycle chain.  For a time, it seemed as if every bike shop employee wore them.  Here's an interesting take on them:

From Winterwomandesigns

From a meter or two away, it looks like butterflies.  And butterflies rank right up there with cats and dolphins for my favorite animal motifs.

Somehow, I think it's tasteful enough even for John Boultbee--or a woman or girl in his life, anyway.

The "Back To The Future" Bike?

Today is "Back To The Future" Day.

In Back To The Future:  Part II--released in 1989-- Marty McFly (played by Michael J. Fox) travels to 21 October 2015 to save his children, who had yet to be born in the original Back To The Future, which was set and released in 1985.

Today, there are countless articles all over the Internet and print media that are scorecards of which predictions for this date came true, and which ones didn't.  This post won't be one of them. 

However, I want to mention something that everyone who saw any of the BTTF series recalls:  the DeLorean motorcar that was turned into a time-travel machine.



Because DeLorean's company went bankrupt, production of those automobiles ceased two years before the film's release.   About 9000 DMC-12s (the only model DeLorean ever produced) were made; as of 2007, about 6500 were believed to still exist.

A decade after the original BTTF, a Texas-based British industrialist named Steve Wynne started a separate company using the DeLorean name. It assembles new cars from New Old Stock (NOS) DeLorean parts in addition to Original Equipment Manufacturer (OEM) and reproduction parts on a "made to order" basis, using existing Vehicle Identification Number (VIN) plates.

That wasn't Wynne's only homage to DeLorean.  Three years ago, he teamed up with Marc Moore, a DeLorean owner and passionate cyclist, to design a bicycle. 

Since potential buyers of such a bike are DeLorean car owners, or anyone who liked their aesthetic, it comes as no surprise that the frames were made of stainless steel--by Sarto Antonio in Plangia, Italy--and had black components and accessories hung on them.

And so the DeLorean Bike was conceived.  I don't know how many--or whether any at all--were ever made, besides prototypes.  The DeLorean Bike website seems not to have been updated in some time, and for ordering (not that I plan on doing so), it simply says to call or e-mailing them for pricing or other information.

I'm wondering what's inside that thing on the down tube.  A Tesla coil, perhaps?
 

Sneaking Off To The Boardwalk In The Fall

The weather warmed up a bit today, but it was still pretty blustery.  Still, this day felt very October-like, in contrast to the last three days,  which felt more like Thanksgiving weekend.  Not that I mind cool or chilly weather; it just seemed to follow me from Canada after the mild weather this part of the world was experiencing as I embarked.

Anyway, this afternoon I had some time to sneak out for a Coney Island ride, and to return home via the path that passes under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge--about 65 kilometers all told.

One sign that it's really Fall is that the boardwalk was not full of the strollers, sunbathers and such one sees even on weekdays for a few weeks after Labor Day.  But, more important, the light and air take on different hues and feels around the time of the Equinox.

Is it my imagination, but has the Parachute Jump taken on the color of fallen leaves?  A few weeks ago, it seemed more like a reddish-orange.  Hmm...Could I be imposing my ideas of the season on things I see?  Is life imitating the season?

Whatever, Tosca seemed to be enjoying it as much as I did.  Even though I didn't have a lower gear to shift into when I was pedaling into the wind, I didn't feel as if I had been straining.  In fact, riding today seemed like a shorter version of my ride the other day, albeit with different scenery.  Maybe it has something to do with the way I respond to the light and air of this time of year.

On the Coney Island Boardwalk, this sign has a way of popping up where you've never seen it before, after you haven't seen it for a long time.  

I would have expected to see it during the height of the summer season.  As a matter of fact, a couple of times when I rode on the boardwalk during the summer, police officers motioned for me to get off my bike.  But today there were no cops in sight.

Still, I didn't ride along the boarwalk:  I had just a bit more than enough time to ride to Coney and back.  But it was plenty.

There's Nothing Like The First

Whenever I ride my Mercians, I find that I've actually ridden faster than I thought I was riding and, even when riding on rough stretches or climbing into the wind, I don't feel beat-up or worn-down at the end.  This is particulary true of Arielle, my Mercian Audax.

It's a bike meant for longer rides, hence the model name.  With such a purpose in mind, the bike is  designed with a somewhat longer wheelbase and slightly shallower angles than a dedicated racing bike.  On the other hand, its geometry is tighter than that of a full-load touring bike or even many randonneur bikes.   It also has, according to my specification, a shorter top tube than is typically found on touring (and even some racing) frames in Arielle's size (56 cm center-to-center) to accomodate the rather long legs and short torso I have for a person of my height.

When I was ordering Arielle--the first Mercian I bought--I was going to specify 16mm diameter seat stays.  At the time, Mercian was still offering 12mm on some models, including the Audax.  Hal Ruzal at Bicycle Habitat talked me into going with the 12mm, in part because that's what he has on one of his Mercians, which is very similar to Arielle. 

I'm glad he did.  Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, has 16mm stays.  It feels stiffer, but that may have to do with the geometry of the bike rather than the stay diameter.   Arielle, however, never felt flexy or noodly to me.  Yet those 12mm stays, I believe, absorb more road shock than the thicker stays, which--I'm guessing--is the reason why I never feel "beat up" after riding her.  

I also am glad Hal--and the folks at Mercian--convinced me to buy an Audax rather than one of the other models.  I didn't want a full-on touring bike:  If I ever do another multi-day tour, it will probably be with a light load.  On the other hand, I didn't want another racing-specific bike:  I'd owned and ridden a number of those and felt as if I were past being even a "wannabe", let alone an actual racer.

On this bike, I can ride fast when I want to, but--more important to me at this point in my life--I can simply enjoy the ride.  It has never felt like a "compromise":  It's simply a bike that fits well and feels good. 

Because Arielle fits and rides so well, specifying my next two custom Mercians--Tosca, my fixed-gear and Helene, one of my Miss Mercians--easy.  Tosca's geometry is just a bit tighter; Helene's dimensions were tweaked to allow wider tires and fenders. 

Vera, my other Miss Mercian, is the only one of my Mercians that wasn't custom-built for me:  I bought it second-hand.  So, while its fit is a bit different from that of the others (the imaginary top tube length is 15mm longer than on Arielle or Helene and 10 mm longer than on Tosca, and the chain stays are about 15 mm longer than the ones on Helene), my experience with my other Mercians served as a good guideline in helping me choose the right stem length and such.  Overall, it has the cushiest ride of my "Mercs" and, not surprisingly, Tosca has the stiffest and most responsive. 

All of them feel great, but, as the saying goes, there's nothing like the first.  And mine (at least in terms of my Mercians) is Arielle.

Coming Home To Another Fall Ride

Last week, during my trip to Montreal, I wrote about (among other things) the autumn light and air.  Well, today had a particularly autumnal feel--at least in part because the weather was colder than it's been in six months or so. When I was talking to my mother a little while ago, I joked that I brought the cold, and the season, back with me because I knew I wouldn't have any trouble getting them through US Customs!

Anyway, on a day so typical of this season, thoughts turn to foliage and red barns and such.  Well, the leaves are starting to turn brightly in local parks and fallen leaves stream along the curbs.  But there aren't a whole lot of red barns in this city.  However, in some neighborhoods--including my own--there are houses that provide a rather nice backdrop for the blaze of colors.

But I also figured that if I went a little north of the city, the colors would be even brighter and there would be an even better stage for them.  And Arielle, my Mercian Audax, was just begging to be ridden.  And I wanted to ride her.   The bike I rented in Montreal was actually pretty nice, but it still makes me appreciate Arielle--and my other Mercians--even more than I had before.

So, after pumping her tires and filling a water bottle, we were off to--you guessed it--Connecticut.

It was just past noon when I started riding, and I knew that it's starting to get dark around 6pm now.  Still, I figured, it would give me enough time to ride there, take in some autumn light and air in the Nutmeg State, and get home before dark.  Although I have lights, there are a couple of parts of the route I prefer not to ride in the dark.

I was riding against of the wind most of the way back--which meant, of course, that I was riding with it most of the way back.  The funny thing was that I didn't feel I was pedaling particularly hard on the way up, in spite of the wind that, at times, gusted to 35 KPH.  And I didn't think I was pedaling particularly fast on the way back.  Yet I made it back before sunset.

Really, I can't ask for more of a Sunday afternoon ride in the middle of October.  

When I got home, I felt invigorated, as I do after a good ride, but not tired.  I often feel that way after long rides on my Mercians, but especially Arielle.  Tomorrow, or some other time in the near future, I'll write about a possible reason.

Las Bicimaquinas de Guatemala

Tourists ride "pedi cabs" and "bicycle taxis" in cities all over the world. People spin pedals in boats that are shaped like Disney characters and almost everything else imaginable.  Pizzas are delivered in contraptions that are part-bike, part-cart.  And cyclist Bryan Allen pedaled a gossamer across the English Channel in 1979.




It seems that pedal power has been used to propel humans and objects across time and space ever in just about every way imaginable. (Cycling to Mars, anyone?)  So, it's a bit surprising that more people haven't thought about other ways of using the energy people generate when they spin their feet.  

An organization called Maya Pedal has been doing just that.  Founded in 1997 as a collaboration between Guatemalan bicycle mechanic Carlos Marroquin and Canadian organization, Maya Pedal has created several "bicimaquinas" fashioned from various combinations of used bicycles and parts, wood, concrete and metal.  Each machine is handcrafted, unique and costs about $40. 



One example is this bicycle mill, fitted to a hand-powered  grinding mill or corn thresher. It can grind three pounds of any type of grain--typically yellow maize (corn), soybeans or coffee--per minute. 




Another bicimaquina looks like a stationary bicycle with a blender above its front wheel.  Actually, that's what it is. But, attached to the wheel is a rotor that substitutes for the electric motor found in the blenders most Americans use.  The faster you pedal, the faster the mixer blade--which can attain speeds of 6400 RPM--spins.

Other Bicimaquinas include  water pumps, coffee depulpers, generators, washing machines and even juicers nut shellers.  That last has proved a real boon to a women's cooperative that makes peanut butter near Sololá .  "Shelling the peanuts used to be the most labor intensive part of the business," says Maya Pedal coordinator Johanna Mesa Montuba.  "Now they just load them up in the machine and it takes a quarter of the time."  And the juicers, she says, are convenient because the women can take them to soccer games and other public events, where they can sell fresh juice.

Bicimaquinas have become popular in the Guatemalan countryside because they are cheap and easy to maintain:  no small consideration in remote areas where supplies are difficult to find and bring in.  And, if someone can't pay the full price of the machine up front, Maya Pedal will allow that person to purchase it in installments.  This is a real help to those, especially women, who want to start their own small businesses but have little or no money.

Really, what better way is there to use old bikes and parts? And to think that  I used to be so proud of myself for building "parts bin bikes"!

Some Recommendations For When You're In Montreal

This is how I said "au revoir" to Montreal

or, perhaps how the city said "au revoir" to me.

I discovered Le Cafe des Chats while walking down rue St. Denis, trying to delay getting on the bus to the airport for as long as I could. It was raining but still agreeably mild; I found myself wishing I had a bike.  I know, I could have taken a pair of Bixi's wheels, but I didn't want to deal with the terminals.  

Cats are, to me, the most agreeable rainy-day companions. The ones who inhabit Le Cafe were rescued from local shelters. Management has a list of ground rules, which include not picking up the cats or disturbing their sleep. But, other than those sensible guidelines, the cafe has no restrictions; they'll let you come in and take a look, but if you want to sit down, they'll ask you to buy something eat or drink.  I ordered--naturally--a "Meow-cacino".

If Le Cafe des Chats was a great way to leave Montreal, the Auberge Manoir Ville Marie made me feel very welcome and at-home from the moment I arrived.  

It's a few minutes from the center of downtown, in a working-class French-speaking neighborhood that may be showing early signs of gentrification.  One nice thing about its location is that it's very quiet: It's the sort of neighborhood in which most people are in bed by eleven or midnight because they're going to work in the morning. The ones I encountered were friendly and helpful when I asked for directions or was carrying my bags from the bus. 

The hotel itself isn't merely self-consciously charming; it feels like a very, very human space.  Much of that has to do with the proprietess, Shahrzad, who is also one of the most truly stylish people I have met in a long time. You can feel her enthusiasm for life; she talked excitedly about some of the artists who have stayed there--and whose exhibits she attended.  I mentioned that I write and was happy that I could talk (however superficially, I later thought) about Rumi and other Persian poets.

She carved this most welcoming of spaces out of an old post office building. Some work is still being done on the sidewalk in front of it, but inside, you'll can bask in the glow of your day's adventures and get a good nights' sleep.

(P.S.  The hotel's staff let me keep the bike I rented in a storeroom.)

Another establishment I highly recommend is Velo Urbain.  One thing I found very interesting is that the shop repairs and sells used bikes; they don't sell new bikes, but all of their rentals--including mine--are new.  As the owner, Phillipe, explained to me, there are "moins des problemes" in doing so.  

He and I spoke--and, before I arrived, exchanged e-mails--in French.  However, one of his employees, Thomas, is thoroughly bilingual in English and French.  Both are very helpful; in fact, Thomas realized, in fitting the bike to me, that I have rather long legs for my height and moved me to a larger-size frame than the one he'd normally recommend for a person of my height.

Even if the Norco I rode weren't brand-new, it still would have been better than most other rented bikes.  The icing on the cake was this:  $50 CAD for three full days.  (At current exchange rates, that's a bit less than $40 USD.) They ask only that you leave some form of ID (I left my New York State non-drivers' ID, issued by the Department of Motor Vehicles) and that if you're renting for a full day, weekend or week, that you return the bike before they close (7pm; they open at 11 am).  You don't need a reservation; you can just show up and ask to rent.

Velo Urbain is located on la rue Papineau, near l'Avenue Mont-Royal.  What that means, of course, is that if you want to challenge yourself right away, you turn left on the Avenue and start riding up the Mont.  Or, if you want to ease yourself into riding, you can explore the neighborhood around the avenue, which abounds with cafes, restaurants and stores of just about every type imaginable.   

Cycling In Montreal

Different cities have different "feels" or "vibes".  A musician--Charles Mingus, I believe--once remarked that he could tell, blindfolded, and with his ears plugged, whether he was in San Francisco or New York or Paris or wherever.  

He, or whoever that musician was, also said it was possible to sense the "energy" of a place you're visiting for the first time the moment you step off the plane or train or whatever took you there.  I believe there's something to that:  I recall feeling almost as if I'd developed another sense as I walked through the airport in Istanbul.  Every place I went, whether in the city itself or along the coast or into the Cappadocia countryside, just seemed to pulse with vitality, whether I was marveling at the Blue Mosque, sauntering among the ancient ruins or looking at the almost-otherworldly landsapes--or seeing the mansions along the Bosphrous or the shacks of once-mighty cities whose harbors had silted up.

Likewise, cycling feels different in different cities.  In Boston, it can seem like mano-a-mano combat with drivers; all through Florida (all right, it's not a city, but bear with me), it feels as if you're holding out (I was going to stay "standing your ground", but that seems pretty touchy!) and holding onto pieces of real estate that are miles long and inches wide.  In Prague, you're always climbing or descending a hill, just as I remember San Francisco.  The difference between cycling in Paris and cycling in New York is like the difference between caffeine and Red Bull laced with cocaine:  The former energizes cyclists but doesn't seem to impair their social skills; the latter turns everything into a race--to what, no one seems to know.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, Parisian drivers are courteous and respectful because, I believe, many are--or have recently been--cyclists.  I'm not sure that the bike lanes or Velib made it a more "bike friendly" city, as some have said, although I did see more cyclists on my most recent trip there than I saw on previous trips.  More time elapsed between the Montreal trip I just took and the one before it, but I think it's fair to see that there are more real changes in the city's cycling atmosphere than I've witnessed in any other city.

I certainly saw more cyclists--and, perhaps most important, a wider variety of people cycling--than I did on previous visits.  I rode some routes I'd ridden before and explored areas I'd never before seen.  I was able to do most of my riding on bike paths, although that was not one of my objectives.  I wouldn't say that the paths, which were all but non-existent the last time I was in Montreal, necessarily make cycling safer or even more pleasant than it had been before.  But I have to say that, for the most part, they seem well-planned:  I didn't find myself on "paths to nowhere" or ones that abruptly let cyclists out into dangerous intersections.  

However, I found myself questioning the wisdom of this:

I understand what planners were trying to do:  Provide paths that allow cyclists to ride in an orderly fashion.  And, for whatever reasons, they wanted or had to keep the paths on one side of the street or the other.  The issue wasn't the width of the paths.  One lane in each direction is more or less like one lane in each direction on a road for motorized vehicles:  You follow similar kinds of procedures and etiquette for riding with, behind or in front, of--or passing--other drivers.  It certainly seemed to work well:  I didn't sense conflicts between cyclists over rights-of-way.

On the other hand, there was a problem I found with them:  When you're riding in the right lane, in the opposite direction from the motorized traffic, and you come to an intersection, you have to take extra care, especially if the cross-street is one-way, with the traffic coming from your left.  This is even more true when drivers traveling in the opposite direction on the street your path parallels make right turns.

To be fair, the local cyclists and drivers didn't seem to have any problem.  Perhaps they've grown accustomed to the arrangement.  Were I living in Montreal--or simply cycling there more often--I probably would, too.  

I didn't see any of the confrontations, or any other expressions of hostility, one witnesses--or, perhaps, gets involved in--here in New York.  There seems to be more respect--or, at least, some sort of detente--between motorists and cyclists.  The latter--even the fastest and most competitive ones--come to a full stop at red lights, as do pedestrians. So do the drivers:  They don't try to "gun it" as the light is changing, and there is actually a pause between the light turning green and cars proceeding through it.  In the Big Apple, it seems, drivers have learned how to put their foot on the gas pedal a second or two before the signal changes so their vehicles are in motion even before the light is green.

In brief, the calm atmosphere I experienced while riding in Montreal seems to be a result of people's sense of security about themselves, as motorists and cyclists as well as human beings.  In New York, I am realizing, no matter how well you do, you've only survived the day and, perhaps, survived for another day.  As James Baldwin has noted, when everyone is striving for status, nobody really has any.  Or, as a student of mine remarked last night, "You have to be a shark to survive in this city!"  If that is the case, and Montreal's streets are waterways, one can navigate them as a dolphin.

Plus, you've got to love a place where you can see a sign like this:

I think something was lost in translation.

or a street with a name like this:

Admit it:  You would love to say you live on "Rue Rufus Rockhead"!

just blocks away from this:

In Vieux Montreal, or Old Montreal

or this:

"Farine Five Roses":  I'm not sre of whether it's stranger in French or English!

or where a bridge like the Jacques Cartier would have an underpass like this between the east and west walkways:

 You can't hear the traffic above you, and look at how clean it is!  It was open, even tough the west walkway is closed.

Such a thing never would be built in New York.  (A fair number of bridges, such as the Verrazano Narrows, don't even have bike paths or walkways.)  And if it were, it would always be "closed for repairs", but homeless people or the young and intoxicated would break into it.

All right.  I'll stop whining about what does and doesn't happen in New York and say that Montreal is indeed a fine cycling city. 

Ground Transportation

At almost any major airport, there is an exit for "ground transportation".  In really enlightened cities, it means a bus, train or some other conveyance that will take you to the city center.  In a place like LaGuardia International Airport--where I disembarked last night--it means taxis, hotel or rental car company shuttles, an "express"  bus that (for $15) brings you to Grand Central or Penn Station (or the Port Authority Bus Terminal) or a city bus that connects with other bus lines or subways in other parts of town.  For some, "ground transportation" is whatever they drove to the airport, or whatever some friend or relative is driving to pick them up.

This was my "ground transportation":

 

La Guardia doesn't have any bike parking facilities.  It doesn't even have the basic bike racks one finds by the Air Train station at John F. Kennedy International Airport.  But I decided that, for this trip, I wanted to try parking my bike at the airport.  For one thing, the LeTour is my "lockup" bike.  For another, I was going only for five days--which meant that I wasn't carrying very much with me.

But, most important of all, Terminal B--from which my flight to Montreal departed--is only 7.25 km (4.5 miles) from my apartment.  I figured, correctly, that I could pedal there just about as quickly as any taxi driver could take me there, especially if there was traffic.

I locked the bike to one of the railings just outside the terminal building.  As you can see, I parked it behind the bins to keep it from blocking pedestrians or people in wheelchairs.  Also, that spot probably protected it from damage caused by errant carts and such.

If I were to pack light enough, and were going on a short trip (say, a week), I could imagine riding to JFK which, depending on the terminal and my route, is 22 to 25 kilometers from my place.

Riding to my bike to Newark Airport would be more difficult because of the Hudson River crossing:  The only all-bike route would involve going up to the George Washington Bridge and riding down to Jersey City, from which I'd have to take US 1 and 9 (a major truck route) across Newark Bay into Newark.  Even if I were to take the ferry from downtown Manhattan to Jersey City, I'd still have to ride the truck corridor.  I've ridden it before, but I'd rather not, especially if I'm carrying a load worrying about catching a flight.

Of course, I could also ride into Manhattan, take the PATH train to Newark and ride from the airport from there.  As with riding to LaGuardia or JFK, it could make sense if I pack light enough.

All I know is that this time, riding to LaGuardia and back turned out to be a relatively hassle-free experience that saved me $11 in bus and train fares, or $25 on taxis.  The next time I'm traveling under similar conditions (light load and short trip), I would ride to the airport--LaGuardia or JFK, anyway.

(More about riding in Montreal tomorrow.)

Au Revoir, Montreal. Peut Etre Nous Reconaissons!

The sun has to set on every journey.  Some wise old person said that, I think.

And so today my latest Montreal experience ends.  I'll tell you a little more, and share some observations with you, if not tomorrow, then in another post that's coming soon.

(I took those photos at the point where the Lachine Canal empties into the St. Lawrence.)