"They Make Bicycles?!"

"They make bicycles?!"

They did, for quite a while--and some very nice ones, at that.  Whether or not they still make bikes, I don't know.  Perhaps they're sold other under names.

Actually, the company  that prompted the question at the beginning of this post probably sold  more bikes in the US under other companies' names than it did under its own.  It's surprising, really, that it wasn't more successful in the US market for a couple of reasons. One is that it made very nice bikes that were reasonably priced, at least until the US dollar devalued.  Another is that it made the types of bikes that were selling like crazy in the US when other companies made them, and the manufacturer I have in mind usually made them better!  Also, this company's name is one that everybody knew:  In fact, most people had (and probably have) at least one product it makes.  And it has an excellent reputation for just about everything it's ever made.

Why, this company even sponsored a team in the Tour de France! 

Officially, this company stopped selling its bicycles in the US after 1989, although it seems to have continued selling them in other countries for some time after that.  It ceased its US operations because, like other bicycle manufacturers from its home country, it had trouble competing when the US dollar devalued against that country's currency.  Unlike some other Japanese bike makers, it seems not to have shifted its manufacturing to a lower-wage country like Taiwan or, later, China or Singapore. 


OK...So now you might realize that I'm talking about a Japanese bicycle manufacturer.  You know it's not Fuji because they're still in the US market.  And you know it's not Miyata because they're not known for other products (although they were  a rifle manufacturer before they started making bicycles).  Ditto for Nishiki and Centurion. 

All right.  I'll give you one more clue.  This company still sells bicycle components, mainly tires, under two brand names that almost every cyclist knows.  And their other products were mainly in an area in which the Japanese first gained a reputation for quality.

That area is electrical goods and electronics.  Now the light bulb is starting to flash in your head! (Pun intended.)  And the names under which those tires and other parts are sold are "Panaracer" and "National".

In fact, this company's tires have been sold under other names--including those of a few bike manufacturers as well as Avocet.  And some are sold under the Specialized brand--as were some of this company's bikes.

By now, you might have figured out that the company in question is Panasonic. In addition to most of the Japanese-made Specialized bikes of the late '70's and '80's, Panasonic also made bicycles for Schwinn (LeTour, Voyageur and other models) and other bicycle companies.   In fact, it made some of the nicest off-the-shelf touring bikes as well as racing bikes that could compete with some of the best from Europe.

Panasonic PT-3500 Touring.  Great bike, but the paint and graphics practically scream "'80's"!

But it seems that in this country, people could see Panasonic only as the company that made their televisions or microwave ovens.  It's a shame, really, because its bikes offered good performance and value.  In addition to the touring bikes I've mentioned, Panasonic made bikes like the DX-2000, which could be best described as a better version of the "club racer" bike made by British and French manufacturers until the 1970s. 

When it was first introduced in the late 1970s, the DX-2000 had a lugged and brazed frame made from double-butted high-tensile steel tubing.   Later versions had frames made from double-butted Tange tubing (900 or one of the other heavier grades).  All versions came with forged dropouts and had geometries similar to those of more-expensive racing bikes.  Earlier club racers from Europe had similar geometry but were made from thinner-walled versions of lower-grade tubing in an attempt to make a light bike without using, say, Vitus (let alone Reynolds or Columbus) tubing.  The DX-2000 was, therefore, almost as light as those European bikes even though it came with clincher tires (as opposed to the tubulars on its European counterparts).  And, needless to say, the Shimano or SunTour derailleurs on the DX-2000  shifted better than the Simplex, Huret or low-end Campagnolo units typically found on other club racers.

1980 Panasonic DX-2000, with fenders added.

What that meant was that someone who wanted to ride fast could buy a DX-2000 for about $225 in the late '70's or a hundred dollars more during the '80's and get an idea of what a racing bike feels like.  Then, if that person wanted to take up racing, he or she could buy a set of tubulars before committing to a more expensive bike.  Some people bought DX-2000s and never looked back, rolling them out on club rides even as their riding buddies went for things "bigger and better". 

Also, the DX-2000 may well have been the only production bicycle ever offered in the US in a 71cm frame (seat tube) size!   To put that in perspective:  I am 5"10" (177 cm) tall with a 32" (81cm) inseam and my Mercians are 55.5cm. 

Phil Anderson racing with the Panasonic team, 1985

From the mid-1980s until the early 1990's, Panasonic co-sponsored racing teams in the Netherlands.   Riders who sported the company's insignia on their jerseys achieved a number of notable victories, including stage wins in the Tour de France and Giro d'Italia as well as victories in a number of "classics" and regional races.  Probably the most successful riders to race for Panasonic-sponsored teams were Phil Anderson, who finished fifth in the 1982 and 1985 Tours de France (and was the first non-European to wear the maillot jaune) and Erik Breukink, who finished second in the 1988 Giro d'Italia. 

Panasonic riders, interestingly, never rode Panasonic bikes. It's been rumored that Panasonic sponsored teams in the hope of becoming as much of a presence in the European bicycle market as it has been in the European (and worldwide) electronics market.  Even though Miyata has been successful there (under the name Koga-Miyata), Panasonic never attained similar status.



1987 Panasonic Team Time Trial

Today the Panasonic name continues to be familiar to millions of Americans who purchase just about anything that runs on electricity, from home appliances to computing equipment.  But they still ask that same question I hear from time to time, "They make bicycles?" 

P.S.  Two of the shops in which I worked sold Panasonic bicycles.  I assembled a number of them; I do not recall any other bike that was as easy to assemble!

The Backwards Brain Bicycle

I can remember when "intuitive" was an adjective used to describe someone who seemed to understand what other people felt--or just things in general--without conscious reasoning.  Perhaps you have a mother, friend, partner, spouse or someone else in your life who "gets" you in that way.  Or, perhaps, you can sense situations before they happen, as police officers who have spent a lot of time on the streets often can.

Somewhere along the way--in the '80's or '90's, I reckon--it became a marketing buzzword for "any idiot can use it."  Like most marketing buzzwords, it is misleading if not downright deceptive.  The "intuitive" product or system might have made perfect sense to whoever designed it, but that doesn't always mean it will make sense to someone who doesn't have a PhD.  (I have an M.F.A.)

To paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald, let me tell you about most product designers (and software developers, and IT people):  They are different from you and me.  I have come to the conclusion that they are more interested in the complexity (or mere complicatedness) or efficiency of the machines or systems they create than in how readily people can use them.  At least, I feel that way every time I try to use a current phone to, um, make or answer a call or a camera to, how can I explain this?, take a picture.

Maybe what they're trying to do is to get rubes like me to "think out of the box".  You know, to forget everything we've ever learned, no matter how empirically-based it may be, and follow the "logic" of whatever they've designed.  Perhaps the inventor of the QWERTY keyboard had that in mind.  I guess I should be thankful to that person, and to anyone who's ever created a system in which I have to enter my students' grades under "HR/Campus Solutions" rather than under anything having to do with students, courses, grades or students' records.

At least the folks who came up with the Backwards Brain Bicycle were joking--I think:






Turn your bars right to steer left.  And vice versa.  Going left to go right, and going right to go left.  Hmm...That sounds like the "reasoning" behind those people who say they would vote for Donald Trump (or any other Republican nominee) if the Democrats don't nominate Bernie Sanders as their presidential candidate.  As for how such logic works in bicycle steering systems--well, all you have to do is look at the video!

In Motion On International Women's Day

Today is International Women's Day. 

As I've mentioned in other posts, early feminists saw the bicycle as a vehicle, if you will, of emancipation.  "Let me tell you what I think of bicycling," Susan B. Anthony intoned.  "I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world."  She explained, "It has given women a feeling of freedom and self-reliance."

She would especially appreciate the images of Women In Motion posted on World Bicycle Relief's site. 

World Bicycle Relief is, in its own words, "mobilizing people through the power of bicycles."  In doing so, according to the organization's website, "We envision a world where distance is no longer a barrier to education, healthcare and economic opportunity."

To that end, WBR manufactures its own bicycles under the "Buffalo" brand in Africa, and has them assembled by mechanics in the locales in which the bicycles are distributed.  WBR trains those mechanics, as well as others who are involved in the production and distribution of those bicycles.  Recently, their wholly owned subsidiary, Buffalo Bicycles Ltd., has begun to sell bikes to non-governmental organizations, corporations and individuals in need of affordable, sustainable transportation.

Universe (yes, that's her name) uses her bicycle to bring the vegetables she grows and the foods she bakes to a market where she sells them.

WBR has work-to-own and study-to-own programs for those who cannot purchase a bicycle outright.  As you might imagine, those programs benefit women and girls particularly because--especially in areas like rural Africa--they have little or no money and limited (or, again, no) access to the networks that would help them get credit to start businesses or other resources needed to get paid employment, go to school or simply to take better care of their families--or themselves.

Kesia is a health-care volunteer who works with victims of HIV, sexually-transmitted diseases and gender-based violence. Because of the long distances she must travel, she used to meet only four clients a day.  Now, with her bicycle, she can meet as many as 75.

That WBR manufactures, assembles and distributes locally--and trains people to do so, as well as mechanics--is also a major benefit to women, who often can't travel very far from their farms, villages or families to obtain an education or employment, let alone a bike.  It also, naturally, makes it easier for women and girls to obtain bicycles, which in turn gives them the mobility that affords them access to a greater range of educational, business and other opportunities.

Georgina, a 68-year-old widow, uses her bicycle to carry milk from her farm to a collection center 12 km away.

No less than Barron's financial magazine has lauded F.K. Day, WBR's founder and president, as one the most effective philanthropists.  While WBR doesn't bill itself as dedicated exclusively, or even primarily, to women and girls, it's hard not to notice the particular impact their programs have on women and girls, especially those in the most difficult circumstances.

I am sure that, were she alive today, Ms. Anthony would point to the organization and its programs as one of the prime examples of what she meant, especially what she said about self-reliance.

Morning Commutes Through The Gates of Hell

I am teaching early morning classes in my new gig.  That means, for now, that I am pedaling to work around dawn.  Someone remarked that I am "bringing the morning to the Bronx", where I am now working.

Should I bring the morning in a pair of panniers?  A bicycle briefcase?  Or some other kind of bike bag? 

While pedaling across the RFK/Triborough Bridge, I saw the morning arrive in another conveyance

through the Gates of Hell--all right, I mean through Hell Gate or under the Hell Gate Bridge.

Perhaps I wasn't bringing morning through the Gates of Hell.  But some of my students probably thought I was bringing them hell this morning through the campus gate!

When You Spoke Of Good Wheels, There Was Just One Name

These days, if you are building a quality wheel, you are likely to use spokes from DT Swiss, Wheelsmith or Sapim.  I have heard arguments and seen a few flame wars (really!) over which brand is better, with partisans of one brand insisting that the others are good only for kebab skewers.


Me, I think they're all high-quality spokes.  All of my current wheels have either DT Swiss or Wheelsmith spokes on them; I don't have Sapims mainly because they're less available, at least here in the US.  Also, I should point out that all of my current wheels have round spokes:  I am not using any bladed or elliptical spokes. 

(I did, for a time, ride a radially-laced front track wheel I built with Wheelsmith bladed spokes.  I had no problems with them.  That said, I didn't ride any rough road surfaces on that wheel.)

One thing I find interesting, from the perspective of four decades as a dedicated cyclist, is that nearly all current high-quality spokes are stainless steel.  During the 1990s, titanium spokes gained some popularity along with bikes and other components made from the same material; today, bladed carbon-fiber or aluminum alloy spokes are found on low-spoke-count boutique wheelsets.  But for the past three decades or so, about 90 percent of quality wheels--and nearly all custom-built wheels--have been laced with stainless spokes from one of the manufacturers I've mentioned.

Back in the day, things were a bit different. (You can say that about just about anything, I guess, except for human nature!)  My first pair of custom-built wheels were composed from Super Champion 58 rims laced to Campagnolo Nuovo Tipo hubs with Robergel Sport spokes.

If you haven't heard of Robergel spokes, which were made in France, you probably don't remember the Tokheim Gear Maker or Durham "Camel" chainrings, either.  But Robergel Sport spokes had much more of a raison d'etre than either of those products.  So, for that matter, did Robergel's "Trois Etoiles" spoke--but more so the "Sport".

You see, the Sport was made in a way that almost no "good" spoke is made today:  It was zinc-plated.  The base material was a high-tensile steel that wasn't stainless.   If you were building a wheel for loaded touring or other rugged use (my first custom wheels took me on my first tour of Europe), you used Robergel Sports.

(The cheapest spokes then, as now, were cadmium-plated or not plated at all.)

Although the Trois Etoiles spokes were plenty strong--custom builders still seek them--and, let's face it, beautiful, the Sport was clearly the stronger spoke.  And, in those days, the Trois Etoiles was probably the only stainless steel spoke that could stand up to the rigors of racing as well as other hard use; those from other makers whose names you've never heard routinely broke. For those reasons, Trois Etoile spokes were used on otherwise all-Italian or even all-Japanese racing bikes.  Very often, a high-end racing or touring bike might have three French components on it:  Robergel spokes, Mavic or Super Champion rims and Christophe toe clips.

The main reason why the Sport and other zinc-plated spokes were used on wheels built for loaded or hard riding, or on bikes that weren't cared-for by team mechanics, is that stainless steel in those days was more brittle, even though it had more tensile strength, than carbon steel with zinc plating.  (A few companies made bicycles with stainless steel frames during the 1970s; their failure rate was high.) Also, if the spokes didn't have rust or tarnish on them before they were plated, they didn't rust during normal usage.  

They did, however, take on a dull finish that didn't even have enough charm to be called "patina".  That, I think, is the main reason why zinc-plated spokes have fallen out of favor:  If you wanted them to look good, you had to clean them, especially if you rode them in the rain.  

A few spoke makers--Robergel was not one of them--offered chrome-plated steel spokes.  They, of course, look nicer than zinc-plated spokes that have been in a couple of monsoons.  But quality chroming is expensive, and too often manufacturers take shortcuts or simply don't know any better.  And, because the cross-section of a spoke is so thin, doing the process properly is even more critical than it is, say, on a frame or a rack.

Chrome plating is actually porous.  Thus, if there isn't a proper under-coat, the steel underneath it is just as vulnerable to the elements than it would be if it were left bare.  Actually, improperly plating something with chrome is actually worse than leaving the underlying metal bare, for it allows rust to begin underneath the surface.  By the time the rust becomes visible, the damage is already done.  In the case of a spoke, it could break even before the rust becomes visible.

(Let me emphasize that I am not against chrome-plating on bicycles as long as it is done properly.  If the frame was made by a constructeur or other high-end builder, the chrome was probably done right.   You can't be as certain with mass manufacturers, particularly those at the lower end of the spectrum.)

There was one other short-lived attempt to keep spokes nice and shiny.  In the 1970s and early 1980s, an Italian maker named Redaelli offered nickel-plated spokes (which were also said to be made specially for Campagnolo hubs).  I don't know how long those spokes lasted in real-life use, for I never knew anyone who used them in real life.  For all I know, they might have been just as good as anything Robergel made.  But nickel does share an issue with chrome:  If the underlying steel was not free of rust, corrosion or dirt when the plating process began, the spokes could rust or corrode from within in much the same way as chrome-plated spokes.  

Whatever the fate of those Redaellis or the chrome-plated spokes I've mentioned, I wouldn't be surprised to find out that someone is still riding my old wheels with Robergel "Sport" zinc-plated spokes.  I don't know of any manufacturer that makes zinc-plated spokes for bicycles anymore; now most people think that if a bike has something that isn't shiny or doesn't have a carbon finish,it must not be any good.  As the saying goes, don't judge a book by its cover--or a spoke by its finish!

An Apt-O Stem For Your NJS-Approved Bike?

These days, if a poseur wants someone to know he is a real, hardcore, badass track rider, he makes sure every single bolt and nut---no, forget that: the air in the tubular tires--on his fixed-gear bike is stamped "NJS".  

(I used the male pronoun because everyone I've ever encountered who fit the foregoing description was male.)

Now, I have nothing against anything approved by Japanese Keirin racing's governing body.  Why, almost everything on my fixed-gear bike has that NJS seal--even the brakes! 

(And, yes, I served with the Peace Corps in Paris.  Really, I did!)

Then again, I don't even pretend to be a track racer:  I just like riding on a fixed gear.  And I am not concerned with having the latest gee-whiz technology:  All I want from my equipment is high quality, reliability and a lack of unnecessary complication.  If it looks nice, so much the better!

Now, if I were a real old-school, firewater-drinking track racer, I would be riding with this on my bike:

This Cinelli stem allowed its rider to adjust the reach (from the stem to the handlebars) from 50 to 170 mm (1.9 to 6.7 inches).  As far as I know, it was offered only in a track configuration, with a deep (probably -30 or 60 degree) drop.  So, as the stem is extended, the bar is also lowered. That would make sense on the track or, perhaps, for a road race that includes a time trial, as someone who is riding in a more spread-out position would probably want to ride in a lower position as well, for aerodynamics.  

Such stems also made sense at the time they were made--in the case of the Cinelli in the photo, from the 1940s until the 1960s--when team budgets were smaller and riders, as a result, might be riding the same bike for different kinds of events.  Other stem manufacturers, such as 3TTT and AVA, made similar items during that time, and earlier.  


Nitto made this seemingly-more-refined version (Yes, it was NJS approved) during the 1980s.  Since then, it seems that no stem maker has been willing to even touch the concept.  That is, until now:

3TTT, which made an adjustable track stem similar to Cinelli's, has just introduced a modern take on it.  Their new "Apto Pro" stem uses an oval steerer tube compartment to allow the stem to "grow".  Even with such a complex internal system, the stem has a rather sleek profile (I'd love to see it in polished, or even anodized, silver!) and a claimed weight of 77 grams, about half that of a typical threadless stem.

It all sounds very nice, but there is one catch:  The "Apto Pro" doesn't have anything like the range of adjustability offered by the old adjustable stems.  Instead, it comes in four different models that offer 15 mm of adjustment:  one for 70-85mm extension, another for 90-105, the third for 110-125 and the last for 130-145.  That means a team or rider can keep four stems on hand and have 75 mm of adjustability.  Also, the fact that they have faceplates on the handlebar clamps means that the stems can be switiched pretty easily from one bike to another.

For the moment, 3TTT plans to make it available only with a clamp that fits 31.8mm diameter handlebars.  The company has not yet disclosed a suggested retail price or when or where the Apto Pro will be available.

Campagnolo Adapted Japanese Design; The Public Didn't Rally Around It

In an earlier post, I said that SunTour's invention of the slant parallelogram is one of the most important innovations in the history of cycling.  Just about any derailleur made today that has even a pretense of quality has incorporated the design, which was patented in 1964.  In the early '80's, you could practically hear other derailleur makers panting with anticipation of the day that SunTour's patent would expire, in 1984.  Within a year, Shimano was using the design in its new line of Dura-Ace derailleurs for indexed shifting.  Within another three years, all of Shimano's derailleurs would share their geometries with those of the SunTour VGT and Cyclone.  By the end of the decade, the other major derailleur manufacturers of the era--Campagnolo, Huret and Simplex--would also "borrow" the design as they tried desperately to reclaim the market share Shimano gulped down.

A sad irony  is that after all of those companies adopted the slant-parallelogram, SunTour tried to create an indexed ("click shift") system to compete with the Shimano juggernaut--two decades after SunTour developed an indexed system (and a cassette freehub) that, by all accounts, worked well but for which the world wasn't ready.  Sun Tour's new indexed system, which came out in 1987, didn't work nearly as well as Shimano's because SunTour didn't develop a freewheel or cassette--or a chain--that worked properly with their new derailleurs and shift levers.  Campagnolo made the same mistake with its "Syncro" (which some of us called "Stinkro") setup, in which indexed derailleurs sent stolid Regina chains clattering across imprecisely-cut teeth of Regina freewheels and chains.  Also, its first "Syncro" system used a modified version of its traditional dropped-parallelogram derailleur, which didn't adjust the distance between the top pulley wheel and the freewheel cog--vital for indexed shifting performance--as well as Shimano's new slant-parallelogram derailleurs with sprung top and bottom pivots.

Campagnolo Gran Turismo, circa 1971.  Don't you just love those red bolts? Unfortunately, they're the best thing about the derailleur.  Well, all right:  It was good for driving in tent pegs. I know, I did it.  From Speedplay.

I suspect that one reason why Campagnolo tried, in essence, to make their traditional derailleur design work with an indexed lever (which looked at least something like other Campagnolo levers of the time) had something to do with their experience with their Rally derailleur of a decade earlier.

SunTour VGT-Luxe, circa 1973.  From Disraeligears

Before SunTour came out with their slant parallelogram rear derailleur, most wide-range gearing systems--like the ones found touring bikes--didn't shift quickly or precisely.   After SunTour's Grand Prix, Competition and V-series derailleurs entered the market--at the dawn of the North American Bike Boom--Shimano, which was a very minor player in the bicycle components market, wanted to compete.  They couldn't copy SunTour's design for another two decades, so they found ways to modify Simplex and Huret's designs.  The result was something called the "servo pantograph", in which the parallelogram dropped at least somewhat (like Simplex) and the top pivot was sprung (Huret).  The resulting derailleurs--which would become the long-armed Crane and Titlist--shifted reasonably well over wide ranges--better, at least, than the European wide-range derailleurs but not as well as SunTour's.

Shimano Crane GS, circa 1972.  From Disraeligears,

Even so, the Shimano Crane and even the Titlist were seen as "better" derailleurs than the SunTour V and V-GT because they were more expensive and, to some eyes, more attractive.  That might be the reason why Campagnolo modeled the first edition of its "Rally" touring derailleur on the long-caged version of the Crane. 

Campagnolo Rally, circa 1975

I actually used one of those early Rally derailleurs for a time.  Once it was broken in (its parallelogram pivots had bronze bushings like the "Record" series derailleurs), it shifted about as well as a Crane--for about double to triple the price.

But certain segments of the European--particularly Italian--cycling community were not happy:  Up to then, the Japanese copied (with notable exceptions like SunTour derailleurs) European designs.  The reverse wasn't supposed to happen, or so they believed. 

Some of those who were upset that Campagnolo was making a "Japanese" derailleur (or, as one unfounded rumor had it, that a Japanese company was making it for Campy) felt vindicated when Rally derailleurs snapped in two at the "neck" just below the top pivot bolt.  Some Cranes and Titlists of the same era failed in the same way.  So, the Campagnolo birthers, if you will, believed that the design of the derailleur--which was Japanese--was to blame.

The second generation of Rally derailleurs addressed the problem by beefing up the "neck."  There were very few reported failures.  Then again, not many second-generation Rally derailleurs were sold.  Some who wanted all-Campagnolo touring bikes actually went back to using the Gran Turismo derailleur, which Frank Berto very aptly dubbed "Campy's Edsel".  Others--mainly in the US, and to a lesser extent in the UK--decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to equip their otherwise all-Campy bikes with a SunTour rear derailleur, which shifted much better, and lasted longer, than the GT or Rally-- at a fraction of the price.

Third-generation Rally derailleur, circa 1980

Although Campy's heart was always in racing, it didn't want to lose the high-end touring market.  So, some time around 1977, the Rally was redesigned.  Essentially, it had the same parallelogram as the Nuovo Record, but a longer cage.  Ironically, it mimicked a "hack" that many custom touring bike builders, particularly in England, devised:  They used to make long pulley cages to fit onto Campagnolo parallelograms.  In one way, it makes sense when you realize that the Nuovo Record was sturdier than almost anything else available (especially before SunTour came along) and mechanically simple:  an advantage when one is away from civilization!  Still, it didn't shift nearly as quickly or crisply as even the least-expensive SunTour derailleur, especially with bar-end shifters.

But at least it still pleased the blowhards purists.  And it would be another decade before Campagnolo "borrowed" a Japanese design again.  By then, Campy was desperate and the public was ready.

Spence Wolf grafted a home-made long cage onto this Campagnolo Record derailleur in the 1960's/

Do Bikes Cause Bike Thieves To Steal?

Whatever your politics, whatever your religious beliefs (or lack thereof), whatever your situation in life--if you are reading this blog, there is one kind of person whom you find irksome, loathsome or something in between.

That kind of person is a bicycle thief.  If you've been riding long enough in the US or in any number of other places, chances are you've lost a bike to someone who didn't ask or pay for it.  And, I'll bet that even if you oppose capital punishment or anything "cruel and unusual", you've thought of ways to "teach a lesson" to whoever took your treasured two-wheeler.

I must admit: One of the things of which I'm proudest is having stopped a bicycle theft.   Actually, I wasn't so much proud as I was gleeful, almost giddy, to see the expression on the would-be thief's face when I tapped him on the shoulder as he was trying to break the lock on a parked bike.

That day, I stopped someone else's bike from being stolen.  But a couple of times in my life, I couldn't do the same for my own bike.  Perhaps those experiences are the reason why I feel a more visceral kind of anger toward bike thieves than I feel toward others who have committed more "serious" crimes.  I hope that the ones who took my bikes--and the one who tried to take someone else's bike until I stopped him-- had some terrible fate befall them.  Maybe they got chewed up between an inch-pitch chain and sprocket!

All right, I'll stop with the fantasies of torture and dismemberment.  But I'll pose this question to you:  What is a good penalty to impose on a bike thief?

I got to thinking about that question upon learning about John Liddicoat.  The homeless 47-year-old Englishman has 48 convictions for 142 offenses, many of which include bike thefts.  In his most recent incident, he targeted the garage of a house in the Devonshire community of Plymouth. 

In his latest hearing, Judge Ian Lawrie said "You have an appalling record, you are incapable of behaving yourself and you have not learnt your lesson" in handing down Liddicoat's sentence:  a lifetime ban from bicycling.

Yes, you read that last phrase right.  Liddicoat is not allowed to ride a bicycle again, ever.  In fact, he is not allowed within four meters (about 13 feet) of a bicycle--or to enter the campus of any college or school, the places where he committed most of his thefts.

Would you let him within four meters of your bike?

Now, you are probably wondering:  a.) How will the ban be enforced?, and b.) Will it actually stop his criminal behavior?

I couldn't find any answer to a).  Has Apple or some other company been commissioned to make a wrist or ankle bracelet that can detect bikes within his sphere?  Or will bobbies be deployed to watch his every move? 

As for question b.), I think most of you would agree that the answer is most likely "no".  You probably came up with that answer even if you didn't know that he has battled heroin addiction though basically all of his adult life and that he'd just spent three and a half years in jail for his latest stealing spree.

In his most recent burglary of the garage, he also took 20 bottles of wine the homeowner had been saving for Christmas.   Hmm...Will he be banned from being around bottles of Bordeaux?   Is there any way of preventing him from pilfering Port?

 

Playing Chicken--In Reverse--With The Rain

In other posts in this and my other blog, I've written about "playing chicken with the rain".   It's one of my guilty pleasures:  I go out for a ride when the sky looks absolutely pregnant with precipitation and keep on riding, all of the while daring the sky open up on me.  The best such rides are the ones in which I pull up to my house (or wherever I'm going) just as the first couple of drops touch my skin:  I feel as if I'd gotten away with something.

I was playing a kind of "reverse chicken" during this morning's commute.  It rained last night, heavily as I slept and a little lighter as I was getting ready to go to work.  As I hopped on my bike, a few drops plipped against my helmet; by the time I got to the RFK Memorial-Triborough Bridge (a little more than a kilometer from my apartment), the rain had stopped and the sun was starting to break through the clouds.

By the time I got to work, what little rain had fallen on me had dried up.  I looked no different than I would have had I ridden under clear skies during my entire commute; none of my co-workers asked, with astonishment, whether I had actually ridden "in this weather".  I was smiling or grinning, I'm not sure of which, and they might have wondered what I was smiling or grinning about.  I'll let them think what they will (I love them. I really do!); I am content to start my day feeling as if I'd gotten away with something, like a kid who made off with the box of cookies! 

 

Into The Fold: A Bike For The French Army

I recall reading or hearing that Peugeot invented the folding bike.   Of course, I am skeptical about that, just as I am skeptical about any other claim of inventorship unless there is solid documentation.  To be fair, though, I must say that, if I recall correctly, Peugeot has never made any claim to having invented the folding bike, although they probably were one of the first bike-makers to mass-market them.

Peugeot did, however, enter into a consortium with Michelin and the French army to buy the patents of an early folding bike, which appeared in the Peugeot sales catalogue of 1899.  

Gerard Morel folding bike prototype, 1892

That bike had its origins in 1892 when Charles Morel, a wealthy French industrialist, fell under the spell of the then-current bike craze and built a prototype of a folding bicycle. Around the same time, a French army lieutenant named Henry Gerard envisioned the military usage of a folding bike and in June of 1893 filed a patent for one he created.

Drawing for English patent issued to Charles Morel and Henry Gerard, 1896

Lt. Gerard's design was, however, deeply flawed and didn't work very well.  While looking for help in fixing the design flaws, he was introduced to Morel, who showed his prototype bike to Gerard.  Morel suggested a meeting between one of his mechanics, named Dulac, and Gerard to come up with a working design.  That meeting was successful and on 5 October 1894, Monsieur Morel and Lieutenant Gerard entered into an agreement to manufacture the bikes. 

Illustration from Revue Militare Suisse, 1897

Production of the bike began the following April. In October, a retail store for the bikes opened in Paris.  Gerard got the job of selling the bike to the military, and he supplied 25 test bikes to the French army.  The experiment was successful; the army bought more bikes and Gerard was put in charge of a bike-equipped regiment.  Soon, he was promoted to captain, largely on the basis of his success with the regiment.  In the meantime, the Russian and Rumanian armies placed orders for the bikes.

Because of his stature as a military commander, Gerard became the public face of the folding bike venture and the bikes came to be known as "Captain Gerard folding bikes".  Apparently, he forgot that Morel had the initial idea for the folding bike and wholly financed the venture and started to believe, as many people believed, that he invented the bike himself.

So, Captain Gerard sued Monsieur Morel for what he believed to be his "fair share" of the profits.  Not surprisingly, that led to a falling-out between the two men and a dissolution of their partnership.  That is when Peugeot and Michelin came into the picture.

Peugeot folding bike, 1970s

During the 1970's Bike Boom, many Americans saw (and a few bought) folding bikes for the first time.  Most Americans' introduction to folding bikes came from the Peugeot model that came with fenders, rack and generator lighting--very French!--and the Raleigh Twenty.  Since then, there have been any number of designs (and improvements) from Brompton as well as other manufacturers and custom builders.

Raleigh Twenty, 1970's

Now, as to who "invented" the folding bike:  The answer depends on how you define "folding" and who and what you believe.  Do "break-away" or "separable" bikes count?  Whether or not you count such bikes, or others that are portable in one way or another, you still have to consider that many claims by many inventors in a number of countries were made.  Most can't be documented in a convincing manner, whether because the documents were lost or they were never created or filed in the first place. 

Whoever deserves credit for creating whatever you consider to be the first folding bike, it's not hard to believe that the idea isn't nearly as old as that of the bicycle itself.