It's So '70's That It's From The '90's

If you came of age as a cyclist, as I did, during the 1970s, the first derailleur you rode might have been a Huret Allvit, Luxe or Svelto, a Campagnolo Valentino or any of the plastic Simplex mechanisms.  If you rode those mechanisms enough, they broke or, in the case of the Hurets, developed stiffness or looseness in the pivots that made shifts sloppy and inaccurate--or impossible altogether.  And if you rode an Allvit, you broke a cable or two.

Then you took your bike to the shop.  The owner or a mechanic (who might have been the same person) recommended a new derailleur recently arrived from Japan.  It looked strange:  The body of your old derailleur dangled downward, but the body of this new derailleur ran parallel to your chainstay.  Its name had a "T" that flared out like a racing stripe, in contrast to the old-world cursive lettering on your old derailleur.  

But it was cheap, so you gave it a try.  On your first ride, you realize that you don't have to win a tug-of-war with your derailleur to get it to shift from one cog to the next one up, let alone across all of your gears.  You also realize that you could shift entirely by feel:  your chain didn't have to grind, clatter and clank as you coaxed it from one gear to the next.

Of course, later on you would need to replace that chain and, along with it, your freewheel.  Your owner/mechanic recommended a freewheel from the same company that made your new derailleur.  When you ride it out of the shop, you are again amazed:  You see that your new derailleur, which shifted light-years better than your old one, was shifting even better.

Chances are that your new derailleur and freewheel were made by SunTour, the first Japanese company to pose a real challenge to the old European component makers.  It was no wonder that by the end of the decade, more than half of new bikes--including many from old-line European manufacturers like Raleigh and Motobecane as well as upstart American companies like Trek--were equipped with SunTour derailleurs and freewheels.  

Today, just about any derailleur made today that has even a pretense of quality owes at least part of its design to that of those SunTour derailleurs.  As Michael Sweatman points out in his wonderful Disraeligears, today's Shimano XT-M772 has the same basic geometry as the 1972 SunTour V-GT. 

Another component that would be introduced during that decade would have a similar influence.  Someone working for an old French rim manufacturer got the bright idea of taking a tubular rim--the kind used for "sew-up" tires--and adding "hooks" to the sidewalls to hold the "beads" of a clincher tire.  The tubular rim profile is inherently stronger, per weight, than the box-channel or drop-section clincher rims made at the time; the resulting new rim was about 25 percent lighter than any other clincher rim available at the time.  So were the tires designed for it.  This development offered performance approaching that of tubular tires with the convenience of clinchers.  Also, the rim's width--20mm--matched that of most tubulars made at the time.  This made it possible for a cyclist to use clincher and tubular wheels on the same bike without having to readjust brakes or other parts.

The original high-performance clincher rim:  Mavic Module E, 1975

The rim in question was the Mavic Module E, introduced in 1975.  At the same time, Michelin brought out its "Elan" tire, made to work with the rim.  The rim was strong; the tire, not so much. The following year, Wolber came out with another, much stronger (though no heavier) tire for the Module E; other companies--including Panasonic (under the names Panaracer and National) followed.  

Every high-performance clincher rim--including the ones on fancy boutique wheelsets--made today uses Mavic's design innovation.  (Yes, even those neon-colored V-shaped rims have the double cross-section and bead hooks found on the Module E, and every rim Mavic has made since.)  And all of today's high-quality clincher tires use the same bead design Michelin introduced with its "Elan" tire.

Other innovative components saw the light of day during the decade, but I'll mention just one more.  If you were riding in the '70's or '80's, there's a good chance you rode it; there's an equally good chance that you're riding something based on its design.

It's a component most of us don't think about very much once it's installed.  And, if it's adjusted properly, there's no reason why we should.  In its time, it was nearly as ubiquitous as SunTour derailleurs.  However, as we will see, as good as it was, it wasn't quite the innovation most of us assumed it to be.

Once we've settled (!) on a saddle that's right for us, and have it set to the height and angle that feels right, we rarely, if ever, pay any mind again to our seat posts.  But if we have to replace our saddles--or if we're setting up a new bike--choosing the right seat post make it not only possible, but easy, to place and tilt our seats to the optimal position.

The old Campagnolo seat posts were renowned for their durability and "infinite" adjustability. But, with the two adjustment bolts ensconced between the saddle rails and body, setup and adjustment were not easy, even with the wrench Campagnolo made for the purpose.  Other seatposts, such as those from Simplex, were easier to use but, frankly, never won any beauty contests (though I think its headbadge was pretty cool).

Around the same time Mavic and Michelin re-invented the wheel (the bicycle wheel, anyway), there appeared a seatpost that--like SunTour derailleurs--cost much less than their competition but worked a lot better.  A saddle setup or adjustment that took half an hour or more--if one had the specially-designed tool for the purpose--could be accomplished in a fraction of that time, with a common 6mm allen key and, best of all, one hand.

French Laprade seatpost

The Sakae Ringyo (SR) Laprade seatpost was even "fluted" like the Campagnolo Super Record!  Yes, it was heavier, though not by much, and the finish--at least on the early versions--was rougher.  But, in time, SR cleaned it up and offered another, lighter, version with the kind of finish found on Nitto's offerings (or old Cinelli bars and stems) and one of the most interesting model names ever given to a bike component:  Four Sir.  (Is that a translation of something from Japanese?  Or did it come up during some dada poetry session where the sake flowed freely?)  

I don't recall seeing very many Four Sirs:  Once SR made its basic Laprade post a little prettier and lighter than the original, there really wasn't much reason to buy any other.  Even top-of-the line bikes came with it as standard equipment. 

What almost nobody, at least here in the US, realized was that SR didn't call their seatpost "Laprade" just because they thought a French name would make it sound better.  Japanese patent laws being what they were at the time, companies like SR could make near-clones of other companies' designs with impunity.  The original Laprade seatpost was made in France.  Not many made it here to the US, so most of us had never seen it before the SR version came to these shores.  

SR Laprade, circa 1978

As I understand, the original Laprade was a high-end item found mainly on French bikes made from Reynolds 531 or Columbus tubing, and on the Vitus aluminum frames from that country.  It was cold-forged and highly-polished, which made it expensive.  SR melt-forged their Laprade post, which made it heavier, and didn't finish it (except in the Four Sir version) quite as nicely.  But it did the job and didn't detract from the looks of even the best bikes, so it was a runaway favorite both in the original- and replacement-equipment markets.

SR Laprade "Four Sir" 

The majority of good seatposts made today are based on the Laprade design.  In fact, the manufacturers go as far as to call them "Laprade-style" or even "Laprade" seatposts.  The name today refers to just about any seatpost with an integrated single-bolt clamp that adjusts from the underside, in much the same way that "Scotch tape" refers to any clear cellophane adhesive strip, whether or not it's made made by 3M.

Ironically, the French Laprade post wasn't an original.  

Now tell me that design from E.C. Stearns--at the time, the world's largest bicycle manufacturer--doesn't look uncannily like the Laprade.  I wonder whether the folks who developed the Laprade seatpost in France were aware of Stearns' patent--which, I imagine, had long since expired.

Well, if you've been reading this blog, you know that there really isn't anything new under the sun, at least in the world of cycling.  No, not even carbon fiber or titanium frames!

Saturday Silliness: No Chimps Were Harmed

I am for any and all kinds of entertainment, as long as no animals are harmed.

Now, humans, that's another story! ;-)

Seriously, how can you not have fun watching a chimp riding a bike through London streets?

"Ghostriding": Transporting A Bike On Your Bike

"Ghostbikes" are sad, grim testimonies to the hazards we face from unaware drivers, indifferent or hostile law enforcement agents as well as misguided or uninformed planners and bureaucrats.

Now, "ghostriding" doesn't refer to riding "ghostbikes".  Rather, it looks something like this:

From Instructables

As you can see, a person doesn't actually "ghostride" a bike.  Rather, he or she guides the "ghostridden" bike with one hand and controls the bike he or she is riding with the other. 

Every time I have done it, I've guided the "ghostrider" with my right hand.  That makes perfect sense when you know that I am right-handed.  Then again, everyone else I've seen "ghosting" a bike has also used his or her right hand.  Since I don't know what percentages of cyclists are right- or left-handed (or ambidexterous), I am guessing that practice is a result of riding on the right side of the road, which is what cyclists in every country in which I've ridden-- besides the UK-- do.  I'm sure I saw a "ghoster" or two during the times I was in England, but I can't recall whether they "ghosted" with their right or left hands.

I am thinking about all of this now because I saw someone "ghostriding" this morning, as I rode to work. He was astride a Cannondale mountain bike and he was "ghosting" a fixed-gear bike with dropped handlebars.  In some ways, that makes sense, as the fixed-gear bike is probably lighter and thus easier to guide.  Also, my own experience has shown me that it's easier to ride the bike with the more upright position and keep my arm level, or sloped somewhat downward, than to have to keep my arm in an upward position to hold the bike.

There are others, however, who would do the opposite.  My guess is that they feel they have more control on a fixed-gear bike (I would agree) and that guiding the heavier and more upright bike is easier because it's more stable.  Perhaps the guy in the photo (Believe it or not, I once looked something like him!) thinks the same way.

As you might have guessed, the hardest part about "ghostriding" is getting started. Once the bikes are in motion, it's somewhat more difficult than riding a single bike, but the momentum of the bikes helps to keep you going.   Your main concerns, once you're moving, are in maneuvering the "ghosted" bike--especially if you are in traffic-- and in stopping with only one hand.  Also, it helps to have a spot where you can easily lean the "ghosted" bike when you're ready to dismount.

I haven't "ghostridden" a bike in a while, but it's certainly easier than carrying a bike while you're riding one--something I've done, believe it or not.  It's also not much more difficult than carrying a frame while you ride, at least for short distances. 

Whatever way you transport your bike on a bike, it's better than that bike becoming a "ghostbike"!
 

St. Patrick's Day. What Do You Wear? What Do You Ride? What Do You Drink?

This has been one of the warmest winters on record.  (It seems that we've been hearing that every other year for the past twenty or so!)  So, not surprisingly, we're having a warm St. Patrick's Day.  The last time I checked, the temperature had risen to 13C (65F) and was predicted to go higher. 

There is a "possibility" of rain, according to the forecast.  Still, I think I'm going for a ride, however brief, after work.

What does one wear on a St. Patrick's Day ride?  This, perhaps?:

You can get that jersey from AeroTech Designs.   Maybe you'll wear it on next year's St. Patrick's Day ride, along with this cap:

Then again, if you're like me, you don't buy cycling-specific clothing.  Maybe you'll get decked out like one of these folks:

Since the weather is warm (at least in this part of the world), perhaps something like this is in order:



From Eleanor's

or if you are in one of those places where this day's weather reminds you that Spring hasn't officially arrived yet, you might think of this:



From Eleanor's

or this:



From LJ World

Maybe you like to ride in tweed, or something that looks like it:



From Meetzorp

Then there is the question of what to ride.  This certainly is lovely:

 

Freddie Grubb track bike.  Photos from Megadeluxe

 

and, really, no less practical than this:

1953 Schwinn Debutante.  Photo from Meetzorp

As for me, I'll probably do my St. Patrick's Day ride on this:

All right. So the bike is English.  So are most of the bikes that have ever been ridden in Ireland.  So, for that matter was St. Paddy himself.

And how many of you are drinking Bass ale* today?

*=I'm not referring to Budweiser beer sold under the Bass name.

Do You Fix It, Or Keep On Riding?

If you've commuted by bike for any amount of time, you've no doubt had at least one flat.

It's one thing for your tire to get punctured and go flat immediately.  Then all you can do is to fix it and, if you're running late, call into the office (or wherever you work). Or, if you're in a place that has mass transit, you can use that.

On the other hand, a gradual leak presents another situation.  How far do you have to go to get to work?  How much time do you have?  You have to answer those questions in deciding whether to fix your flat or to continue riding.

This morning, about halfway to work, I noticed that my steering was a bit balkier.  Then, when I hit a bump, I noticed that the tire was soft, though not completely flat.  At that point, I was on Randall's Island--no subway nearby, and the one bus line that goes through the island doesn't allow bikes on board. 

From Tales and Fables

 

So, my choices were:

• Fix the flat.
• Lock the bike up and take the bus to the subway.
• Keep on riding with crossed fingers.

I had ridden about twenty minutes and would need about another fifteen to get to work. My first class would start in about forty-five minutes.  I probably could have fixed the flat, but I really didn't want to be pressed for time.  If I were to lock the bike on the island, it would probably be bit safer there than in most other parts of the city.  But getting back could be a hassle.  And, really, I didn't know how much longer I could ride on my deflating front tire.

Still, I chose the last option.  Even though I could feel, with every turn, the bike losing whatever handling abilities it had, I figured that I had a chance of getting to work before my inner tube completely lost air.  Also, I reckoned that if I couldn't make it the rest of the way to work, I'd at least be able to cross the bridge into the Bronx, where I could catch the subway (which I'd have to take for only two stops).

I managed to pedal to work.  For the last couple of blocks, my tire and tube felt like a half-melted marshmallow between my rim and the street.  But at least I still had some time to spare when I got to my job.

Now I'm about to go home--but I have to fix the flat first.  Oh well. 

When you realize you are riding on a slow leak, how do you decide whether to fix it, keep on riding or bail out?

The Journey--And Destination--Of My Rides

When I first became a dedicated cyclist--during the '70's Bike Boom--a lot of new adult cyclists were folks who were, had been or did not want to stop being hippies.  In retrospect, it makes perfect sense:  cyclists of the previous generation, who kept the flame lit during the Dark Ages following World War II, were countercultural in their own way.  

During the '50's, much of the American landscape and culture were being carved up to better accommodate the automobile.  Developing an economy and society ever-more dependent on the internal combustion engine was seen as a sign of progress, much as many immigrants and their children saw acquiring an automobile as a sign of economic progress away from bicycling, walking or taking public transportation to work out of necessity.

Continuing to ride a bike--let alone taking up cycling as an adult--was almost a revolutionary act under such conditions.  That, I believe, is the reason why the hippies who rode bikes in the days and years after Woodstock are logical descendants of those who rode in the Dark Ages.    Ironically, it is also the reason, I think, why the new cyclists of the Bike Boom actually had very little truck with those who kept the fire burning during the decade or two before them:  by the '70's, adults on bikes who could afford to travel by other means were becoming a more common sight.  So, riding a bike--especially for a hippie--wasn't such an act of rebellion anymore. If anything, it was one of the more socially acceptable things a guy with long hair and wearing torn jeans could do.

Still, for many, riding a bike--especially taking bike tours or camping trips--was seen as a way of "getting away" or simply not joining the ranks of those who made payments on cars and houses.  On the other hand, those earlier cyclists, who were bucking cultural and economic trends to an even greater degree than Bike Boom riders were, didn't seem to ride out of any sense of rebellion.  Most of them had regular jobs or owned businesses; most were also not adverse to the acquisition of property and wealth.

I have long valued older, more experienced cyclists for their wisdom as well as their insights, and even for their sense of humor.  And, let's face it, they show us that we (most of us, anyway) have to get jobs or negotiate the capitalist system in some way or another, and then find time and ways to ride our bikes in the midst of the chaos.  But I realize, as I get older, that it's really the hippie in me that keeps me cycling:  I ride in order to be free (at least for as long as possible) and that I need my freedom in order to ride.  

So, if you've gotten this far, you might be wondering what prompted this rumination.  Well, I stumbled across a blog by someone who "some would describe... as the old hippy who doesn't know the war is over".    Fred Bailey, the "old hippy" in question, lives aboard the Seafire, a boat he is refitting for voyages far and wide.

Actually, I didn't stumble across the blog itself.  Rather, I found, by chance, a photograph included in Fred's latest post.  In that post, he talks about his annual "pilgrimage" to the Fisher Poet's Gathering in Astoria(!), Oregon.   It sounds like a wonderful event:  Maybe the next gathering will give me reason to visit an Astoria that, I am sure, is different from the one in which I live.  

He took the photograph--of "the most westerly bike rack in the USA"--during that trip:



Photo by Fred Bailey, from Seafireblog.

I don't think anyone could create a better visualization of my cycling spirit, if you will.  The colors, the sights and the overall mood are my destination, whatever my cycling journey happens to be.

One Way Of Entering The Bronx

As I mentioned in a previous post, a bicycle/pedestrian connection between Randall's Island and the Bronx has opened.  It's actually very good:  It's well-constructed and makes a smooth transition to the pathways on the island.  Also, it's wide and closed off to motorized traffic, though there is a rail crossing--albeit one that doesn't seem to be used very often.  My only real complaint about it is that it's that most people would have a difficult time finding it from the Bronx side.

Still, I sometimes choose to ride up the walkway on the Bronx spur of the RFK Memorial/Triborough Bridge.  One reason is that it has a fairly steep incline, which adds a small challenge to my daily commute.  Also, while the new connector makes for an easy entrance into the Bronx, the old RFK walkway makes the entrance, shall we say, a bit more grand

and perhaps a bit more dramatic, even a bit Gothic, on an overcast day.   It's not exactly noir--more like gris, perhaps.  Plus,  you have to admit, there's something imposing about seeing a cross--or something that looks like a cross, anyway--as you are riding up to an arch.

Don't get me wrong:  I'm enjoying my new job, and the commute to it.  Truth be told, the part of the Bronx where I now work is more interesting than the part of Queens where I had been working.  And, oddly enough, even though I don't see a lot of people in the neighborhood riding bikes (a few of colleagues in my department and elsewhere in the college ride in), somehow I don't feel as conspicuous as I did at my old job, where practically nobody rode.  And I couldn't make the kind of entrance I make when I pedal up that ramp into the Bronx!

The Racer's Edge: Dick Power

I am told very good tacos are made in this place:

I plan to return one day and find out.  

Recently I learned about something else that was made in this building, next door:

At first glance, it looks like just another storefront building on a block that gentrification hasn't yet found.   Its owners told me that sofas were once made within its walls.  However, they were unaware that something meant for a decidedly un-sedentary pursuit was also made inside its confines:

Dick Power track bike, 1963

About ten kilometers from my apartment is the hipster haven of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where there seems to be a bike boutique (next to a bar that serves only craft beers, or course!) on every block.  I can recall a time when the area more closely resembled the environs of the taco restaurant and its neighbor:  a place full of blue-collar residents and immigrants, where few, if any, adults ride bicycles. 

 The neighborhood around Santa Fe Taco---Sunnyside, Queens--might well be on its way to becoming like Williamsburg.  Only four kilometers, in another direction, from my apartment, it was long known, along with neighboring Woodside, for the Irish bars and German saloons that served the blue-collar immigrants and first-generation Irish- and German-Americans who lived in the area.   (Both neighborhoods still have large Irish populations but also have perhaps the greatest concentration of Filipinos east of California.)  Sunnyside and Woodside did not suffer the devastation other blue-collar neighborhoods (like Williamsburg) endured, but nevertheless have experienced changes that threaten to erase some of their heritage.

A part of that heritage that is unknown to almost everyone who lives in the neighborhood involves the bikes that were made and sold in that unprepossessing building next to a Taco restaurant.  

Dick Power in front of his shop--in the building next to the taco restaurant!--in 1939.

During the "Dark Ages" of cycling--roughly the two decades or so following World War II--there existed in a few American locales, including New York City, a small but tight-knit community of racers and other adult cyclists.  Shops such as Thomas Avenia's in East Harlem and Kopp's in Princeton catered to them.  And there was a small but dedicated group of framebuilders, some of whom also owned and operated retail shops, who catered to those riders.  

Dick Power was one of them.  From his shop and frameworks at 4710 47th Avenue in Sunnyside, he turned out some beautifully-crafted frames that are prized by riders as well as collectors.  Power, who died in 1973, plied his trade and served as a coach and trainer from the 1930s through the 1960s.  However, the loss of his son--executed for his role in a robbery gone wrong that resulted in the death of a police officer--propelled him onto a mission to recruit and mentor young people into cycling.  

Among those he encouraged, and for whom he built bikes, were several female cyclists.  In the 1950s, the world of cycling, including racing, was even more of a male preserve than it is now.  Power's mentorship of those young women was seen as radical in his time.

I must say, though, that it must have been interesting, to say the least, for a young woman to be coached by a man with a name like "Dick Power".  Than again, those times were more innocent, I imagine!  

It's Warm, Even If The Season Has Not Yet Sprung

For three days, it felt like summer, almost.  I rode in shorts and worked in skirts without hosiery.  The classrooms and offices were too warm, and my students wanted to do anything besides listen to my lectures although, of course, they would never tell me that.  If I were any of them, I'd've felt the same way, probably.

The temperature dropped a bit today, though it still felt pretty balmy for this time of year, even with a brisk wind--into which I pedaled out to Rockaway Beach.  The sun played hide-and-seek but the wind was, as we say in the old country, definitely in-your-face.  Not that I'm complaining:  the ride was a decent workout even if it wasn't very long, and I felt invigorated afterward.  

Invigorating turned to bracing on the Cross Bay Memorial Bridge to Rockaway Beach. The temperature seemed to drop about 10C as I crossed the span.  Such a change is typical on a warm late-winter or early-spring day:  Even during a winter as mild as the one we've had, the ocean temperature drops to 3-5C (about 37-40F); the water in Jamaica Bay is probably just as cold.

There are other signs spring hasn't sprung yet, in spite of the warm weather:  The trees and plants are not yet budding, and no shoots are poking through the ground.  There are only the recently-planted grasses on dunes built to forestall further erosion of the kind Superstorm Sandy left in its wake:

That "dune" will probably be no more lush in another month, or two, or three, as Spring forwards into Summer.  But we will see the other signs, not yet visible, of the season that is incubating in the warmer-than-normal weather we've experienced during the past few days.

Next Winter, Perhaps: A Sneeuwketting

It's hard to believe that a month and a half ago, we had one of the biggest snowstorms in the history of this city.  It's also difficult to believe that less than a month ago, on Valentine's Day, we had the coldest temperature we'd experienced in more than two decades.

Why do those things seem incredible now?  Well, for the past two days, we've had afternoon high temperatures around 25C (77F), which broke old records for the past two dates by several degrees.  Today is not quite as warm, but still balmy for this time of year with a daytime high of 20C (68F).  And, aside from the blizzard and the cold snap around Valentine's Day, we've had a very mild (if wet) winter.  I've actually managed to do some riding that doesn't have to do with commuting, and I haven't used my winter gear nearly as much as I normally do.

So, my latest discovery could hardly have come at a less opportune time, though we don't know what next winter will be like.  Perhaps this one will come in handy next winter:




Like so many practical bike-related innovations, this one was created by a Dutch cyclist.  Cesar von Rongen's "Sneeuwketting", or snow chain, is a simple rubber casing with spikes on it.  According to its webpage, it's simple to install over existing tires and its "pop of colour to make your dreary winter day a little brighter". 

It's sunny here.  And I'm about to leave work.  I'm going for a ride--without a snow chain.  Maybe next winter I can use it!