Vera Shows Off Her New Accessories

I didn't have to work.  So I slept later and my day got off to, shall we say, a more leisurely start than I'd originally planned.

So I didn't take as long or ambitious a bike ride as I might've.  Still, I managed to get in about 100 kilometers, on a bike I haven't ridden in a while:  Vera, my green Mercian mixte.

A sweet ride she is.  And she's had a slight makeover.

From the saddle forward, she hasn't changed.  It is below the saddle, and to the rear, where she sports a new look:

When Velo Orange had a sale, I decided to go for a constructeur rack and some of those beautiful Rustines elastic cords.   At first, I was skeptical of a rack that rests on the fenders.  But, as Chris at VO and others point out, the fender doesn't actually bear the weight.  Nor, for that matter, do the struts on racks that attach to the rear stays.  Rather, those struts--and the fender--act as stabilizers.  Rather, the load is borne by the rack itself, which is surprisingly strong.

It real benefit, though, is that it sits lower than other kinds of racks.  We all know that the lower the center of gravity, the more stable the bike is. And, on a bike with a load, stability translates into speed.

All right.  I'll admit it:  The real reason I went for the rack is the look.  It really seems right, I think, on a classic twin-stay mixte.  Plus, the rack matches the one on the front. 

Indulgent, perhaps.  But Vera doesn't seem to mind, and it didn't seem to make the bike faster or slower.  But I'm liking it, so far.

Five Cyclists Mowed Down In Michigan

Yesterday, I wrote a post-mortem for Jocelyn Lovell, whose career was cut short when a dump truck ran him down and broke his neck.  He would live the second half of his life, which ended last Friday, as a quadriplegic.  The trauma nurse who helped to airlift him to Toronto Sunnybrook Hospital immediately recognized him when he returned 18 months later for a round of rehabilitation.  She rushed to his side, grasped his hand and tearfully exclaimed, "Jocelyn, we thought you were going to die!"

Whatever miracles, whatever interventions, kept him in this world for the next 32 years weren't forthcoming for five cyclists near Kalamazoo, Michigan.  Debra Ann ("Debbie") Bradley, Melissa Ann Fevig-Hughes, Fred Anton (Tony) Nelson, Lorenz John (Larry) Paulik and Suzanne Joan Sippel were all run down from behind by a blue Chevy pickup truck.

Melissa Fevig-Hughes

In the minutes before the tragedy, police were seeking that vehicle after receiving three separate calls saying that it was being driven erratically.  The driver, a 50-year-old area resident, is in custody while authorities decide on what charges should be filed against him.  Among them might be one for DWI, according to the latest reports available as of this writing.

 

Suzanne Sippel

One very notable aspect of this story is that the victims were all experienced cyclists who had been riding with each other weekly for more than a decade.  Ms. Fevig-Hughes, age 42, was the youngest of them, while Mr. Paulik, 74, was the oldest. Another disturbing aspect of this tragedy is that it struck in daylight, on a street in a residential area.  At least one witness tried to alert the cyclists and the driver, to no avail.

Debbie Bradley

Four other area cyclists were injured and are hospitalized.  Jennifer Lynn Johnson is in fair condition, while Paul Douglas Gobble, Sheila Diane Jeske and Paul Lewis Runnels are in serious condition.

 

Tony Nelson

According to witnesses, these cyclists were a familiar sight to many in the area and were known to abide by all laws, regulations and accepted safety practices.  Thus, according to Paul Seiden, "The tragedy underscores the need for increased awareness and re-dedication on the part of the community as a whole to the safety of bicyclists when they're on the road."  Seiden, the director of road safety for the Kalamazoo Cycle Club, added, "In an accident like this, everybody loses."

Larry Paulik

 Truer words have never been said.  As a fellow cyclist and human, my thoughts are with Debbie Bradley, Melissa Fevig-Hughes, Tony Nelson, Larry Paulik and Suzanne Sippel and their families and friends.  I can only be thankful that I have not met a fate like theirs, and hopeful that I never will.

In Memoriam: Jocelyn Lovell, Canada's First Cycling Star

The star was ascending.  Or so it seemed.

The time:  late 1970's-early 1980s.  The place:  North America. 

The '70's Bike Boom was over.  Some people discovered bicycle touring during the heady summer of Bikecentennial.  Not many stuck with it:  careers and families and such detoured them.  (Also, some had a "been there, done that" attitude after touring the country.)  And whatever awareness people might have developed about bike touring, or any type of cycling done by adults, didn't translate into a lifestyle of which cycling would be an integral part.  They continued to drive to work, school and for shopping and recreational activities.  They might take the bike for a spin in the park, but it was a novelty, much as taking a horseback ride during a vacation is for many people.

Still, there were some signs that the United States and Canada might one day join some of European countries and Japan among the elite cycling nations.  Nancy Burghart had dominated women's racing during the 1960's.  During the following decade, a new generation of American women would dominate the field to an even greater degree.  In fact, one could argue that Mary Jane ("Miji") Reoch, Sue Novara, Connie Carpenter and Rebecca Twigg turned the US into the first "superpower" of women's cycling.

Men's racing on this side of the Atlantic (and Pacific) was also improving by leaps and bounds, though they were pedaling through longer shadows cast by such riders as Anquetil, Mercx and Hinault.  Still, during the period in question, the world began to notice American male cyclists, especially after they took home seven medals, including three golds, in the 1984 Olympics:  the first time American men won any hardware since the 1912 games. (Connie Carpenter and Rebecca Twigg won the gold and silver, respectively, in the inaugural women's Olympic road race that year.)

Canada wasn't about to be left out of the picture.  In those same Olympic games, Steve Bauer took the silver medal in the men's road race, and Curt Harnett did the same in the 1 km time trial.  In the road race, someone you've probably heard of finished 33rd:  Louis Garneau.  Yes, the one with the line of bike clothing and helmets. 

Although Bauer's and Harnett's victories were sweet for our friends to the north, they highlighted the absence of another rider who, many believed, could have won, or at least challenged for, a medal:  Jocelyn Lovell.

Six years earlier, he'd won three gold medals at the Commonwealth Games.  Later that same year, captured the silver medal at the World Cycling championships. Those victories highlighted a career that saw him win medals in other Commonwealth as well as Pan American games, as well as numerous national titles, throughout the 1970s.  He also represented Canada in the 1968, 1972 and 1976 Olympics--the latter of which were held in Montreal. 

Lovell at the 1976 Olympics in Montreal

Like the United States, Canada boycotted the 1980 Summer Olympics, in protest of the then-Soviet Union's invasion of Afghanistan.  Thus Lovell didn't make the trip to Moscow, where the Games were held.  He turned 30 during the course of the games.   It seemed, then, that if Lovell were to ride in the 1984 Olympics, they would probably be his last.

But he never had that opportunity.  A year before the opening ceremony in Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, tragedy befell Jocelyn Lovell. Late in the afternoon of 4 August 1983, he was out on one of his daily training rides near his Missisauga, Ontario home.  A pair of dump trucks approached him from behind as he crested a hill. The first swung around him.  The second ploughed over him.

That he wasn't killed was a miracle. However, from that moment onward, he would never move any part of his body below his shoulders, ever again. 

According to friends and acquaintances, he never accepted his fate.  He always said that one day, he'd be on a bike again.  He may well have said that on Friday, 3 June:  the day his battle ended, at age 65. 

Such an ending is particularly sad for someone who was noted for his souplesse:  his fluid form astride a bicycle.  Observers remarked that he and his bike simply seemed to belong together.  The terrible irony is that someone who had such physical grace would have to spend half of his life completely unable to use it.  He did, however, become an advocate for spinal cord research and other related causes.

Although relatively few in the US know about him, any of us who are cyclists and benefit in any way from the current interest in cycling owe him a debt of gratitude:  He helped to put our continent on the cycling map.  And he always kept his hope alive.  What is more American than that?

Is It Your Father's Tool Kit? Or Is It "Retro"?

When it was new, the Peugeot in yesterday's post more than likely came with a Mafac tool kit.

Mafac took kit

Back in those days, Raleigh bicycles came with what is still commonly known as the "Raleigh spanner". (It is English, after all, so it's a "spanner", not a "wrench".)

Raleigh spanner

If you have an old Raleigh or almost any bike with derailleurs and caliper brakes made before the 1980's, that spanner or tool kit are very useful.   And for "freebies", they were actually quite well-made.  However, they are not very useful on most of today's bikes or components.

I still have a soft spot for them, though.  Other companies made similar items.  For example, REG of Italy--which also made water bottle cages and other accessories--made a tool kit very similar to the Mafac.  The REG came in a cute red pouch, made of thicker but more brittle material than the black (or sometimes brown) pouches that held the Mafac tools and Dissoplast patches and glue.  

There was another tool kit that was, essentially, the Mafac minus the socket wrench and the wrench with the spoke keys.  It came in a pouch with a similar shape to the Mafac, but with thinner but more supple material:  like something you might find on a rather fashionable piece of luggage.  And it was embossed with the name of the bike maker that included them with their new machines:  Gitane.

Gitane tool kit

Just for its uniquess, that is my favorite set of retro-tools.  Now, as for Gitane bikes:  They could be the very epitome of Frenchness. Or not.  They could be wonderful or awful.  But they were known for not sticking to the specifications lists in their catalogues:  When I was working in bike shops, we used to joke that it was the reason why Gitane didn't make their catlogues very available!  Sometimes that worked for the better:  One or two of their models would come with Sugino Maxi or Takagi Tourney cotterless cranksets instead of the steel cottered models so common on European bikes of that time, or a SunTour derailleur for one from Simplex or Huret.  Other times, they just substituted something that was just as bad, or a little less bad, than the original specification.

But I digress.  I always thought their tool kit was neat, even if it wasn't different from Mafac's.  And, oh, while we're on the subject, you've surely seen "dogbone" or "dumbbell" wrenches.  I had one of those when that was about the only multi-tool available besides the Raleigh spanner or Campagnolo T-wrench.

Campagnolo T-Wrench

It seems that someone wanted to combine all of the "retro" tool kits into one--complete with tire irons. (Yes, we used to call them that because, well, they were made from iron, or cheap steel.)  And, because it's a "gift" item, the resulting kit comes in a faux-decorator box.

"Gentlemen's" tool  kit

I'll admit, it is kinda cute.  But because it's a "gentlemen's" kit, I'm not qualified to own one.  Nor was I ever!

How Much Is That Bike-ee In The Window?

According to bike lore, Gary Fisher, Joe Breeze and their buddies bombed down Marin county fire trails on pre-war Schwinn baloon-tire bikes they bought for five dollars at local thrift shops.  Their experiences with those machines led them to develop the rigs we now call "mountain bikes".

Now, I wasn't there to see the runs down Sonoma hills. But I can attest to the five-dollar baloon-tire bombers.  Around that time, I saw bikes like those--and others--in thrift stores.  Sometimes they cost even less than what Fisher and Breeze paid.  Or people would give them away when they moved or cleaned out basements or garages.

You see, in those days--the mid-1970s--the concept of "retro" didn't exist.  Old stuff was, well, old stuff.  Going to a thrift shop wasn't cool:  You did it because you were poor or "not with it".  Old baloon tire bikes were relics thought to be unsuited to the "Bike Boom", which prized ten-speeds, of whatever quality, above all else.

Fast-forward four decades.  If you can find one of those old Schwinns--or even a Columbia or Murray of that era--call your credit card company and request a spending limit increase before you bid on it.  

And what of those bike-boom era ten-speeds?  Well, you might luck into one without paying for it if you know someone who's moving in or out and has to clear out a basement, garage, barn, shed or other storage space. But, it seems, the days of buying one with the loose change you found in your couch cushions are over.

This Peugeot---I'm guessing it's a UO8--looks like it was just pulled out of the East River.  I mean, when a plastic Simplex derailleur looks almost as rusty as the chain, you know the bike hasn't been kept in a climate-controlled environment.

How much is that bike-eee in the window?  Well, if you have to ask....Seriously, it had a price tag:  $125.

Now, I know that's not high for a used bike these days.  But if you have any intention of riding the bike, you'd probably have to spend as much, or even more, to refurbish it.  

That price, by the way, is more than what the bike originally cost:  about 90 dollars, back around 1970.  I know the bike is from around that year because of certain details (I've seen lots of Peugeots) and because of the faded dealer sticker from Carl Hart Bicycles of 1120 Cortelyou Road, Brooklyn, NY, with a telephone number that had letters rather than numbers for its first two digits!

Given the other stuff that's in the shop, I suspect that if anyone who might buy that Peugeot isn't going to ride it.  Instead, he or she will use it for "wall art" in a coffee shop or bar or some such place.  Then, when the vogue for such decor dies out, where will the bike end up?  (That was a rhetorical question:  You know the answer!)

A BIke Thief Who Changed The World? Or: How A Stolen Schwinn Gave Birth To "The Greatest".

Sixty dollars was a rather princely sum--especially for a 12-year old boy's bicycle--sixty-two years ago.

But even if not for its price tag, its disappearance would leave its owner devastated.  Especially given that the boy had just gotten the brand-new Schwinn as an early Christmas gift, and it was in his favorite color--red.

Said boy went, with his buddy, into Columbia Auditorium in Louisville, KY---according to some accounts, for the free popcorn inside.  When they returned, they had two more cartons of popcorn, but two fewer bikes, between them.

Enraged, the boy reported the crime to a policeman, one Sergeant Joe Martin.  In recounting his loss, the boy vowed to "whup" the perp.

Sergeant Martin's life experience and wisdom came into play.  He advised the boy bereft of bike to learn how to fight before confronting a bicycle thief.

Sergeant Martin was something of a Renaissance man.  While off-duty, he was, among other things, a boxing trainer.

By now, you may have figured out where this story is going.  The 12-year-old boy was known as Cassius Clay.

Yes, that Cassius Clay.  The one who would, a half-dozen years later, win the gold medal in the 1960 Rome Olympics.  And, three and a half years later, a heavily-favored named Sonny Liston--who looked like someone you wouldn't even want to meet in a seminary, let alone in a dark alley-- would not answer the bell after the seventh round. The handsome, brash Clay thus became the second- youngest heavyweight champion in history:  a distinction he would hold for more than two decades, until Mike Tyson defeated  Trevor Berbick.

Shortly after defeating Liston, Clay converted to Islam under the tutelage of Malcolm X.  He would follow his mentor in renouncing his "slave name" and become Cassius X,  and, not long after, adopt the name by which we mourn him today:  Muhammad Ali.

Malcolm X photographs Muhammad Ali from behind a soda fountain counter in Miami shortly after Ali (then Cassius Clay) defeated Sonny Liston for the World Heavyweight Title.

What I know about boxing can fill this sentence. All right, I take that back:  I grew up hearing a lot about it, and even watching fights--which, in those days, were on regular network TV, in prime time no less.  You see, my grandfather loved boxing.  And his brother-in-law--my great-uncle, on my father's side--was a prizefighter in his youth. I was told he was an early Gold Gloves champion as a bantamweight or welterweight (he was indeed diminutive), although I have not been able to verify this.

Both my grandfather and my great-uncle acknowledged Ali's greatness as a fighter, though both continued to refer to him as Cassius Clay.  My grandfather did so for the reasons you might expect of a white man of his place and time, but my great-uncle actually knew Clay, somewhat, before he became Ali.  He always said Clay/Ali was indeed "the greatest"--of this generation, he added--but nobody was, or would be a better heavyweight fighter than Joe Louis.   (And, he once said, nobody was a better man than Jackie Robinson.)

Whatever.  Ali was certainly the greatest fighter I ever saw, for what that's worth.  But more to the point, if I had children, I would tell them to look to him as one of their role models. (Kids should not have only one role model.)  He stood for what he believed in, even when it cost him--in his case, nearly four years in the prime of his career. Imagine what that career would have been like had he not been banned from fighting during those years because he refused to fight in the Vietnam War!

And, let's face it, the man had a personality that transcended everything he did, whether as an athlete or a human-rights activist.  He was often accused of "showboating".  I don't think that's fair or true.  Rather, I think he was born to be in the spotlight, and he couldn't have done anything to change it.  Some years ago, I recall a photographer or news producer--I forget which, and I forget whom--saying something to the effect that it was impossible to take a bad picture of Ali.  

It wasn't just his looks, though few young men were ever looked better. Even the word "charismatic" almost trivalizes the qualities he had.  Whatever word or words do him justice, he was born to be a beacon or a lightning rod.  And he was both.  If that's not a full life--one that ended just after midnight this morning--I don't now what is.

As for whoever stole 12-year-old Clay/Ali's bike all of those years ago:  He or she might well be the only bike thief (or one of the few bike thieves) who changed the world for the better.  

Wow!  I never thought I'd say anything like that.  

R.I.P. Muhammad Ali

When There's No Place To Go, I Mean, Charge

Starbuck's or Dunkin' Donuts?

The difference in cost between the two isn't as great as one might think. At least, it isn't between the Starbuck's' and Dunkin' Donuts' places in my part of the world.    

Of course, Starbuck's has variations on coffee that DD--and possibly anyone else--never dreamed of.  I mean, in how many other coffee bars can one get a "Venti Soy Quadruple Shot Latte With No Foam"?  Or an "Extra Hot, Wet Cappucino"?  (Does one need to be accompanied by an adult to order it?)  

Nobody goes to Starbuck's and asks for "coffee, light and sweet", or even "black".  Customers who want the latter usually order espresso.

But the real differences between Starbuck's and Dunkin Donuts come down to who goes to them.  I saw my first Dunkin' Donuts when my family moved to New Jersey; back then, pretty much everybody, across class and other lines, patronized it.  But with the rise of Starbuck's--as well as any number of other "boutique" coffee shops that aren't part of a chain (e.g., the kind found on every other corner of neighborhoods like Soho and Williamsburg)--DD came to be seen as declasse. In other words, it became the sort of place where people of a certain age who never married, or who are widowed, converged late at night.  Also, it became a place for geeks and loners of other kinds.  The young and hip--or those who were trying to seem so--went to Starbuck's and their imitators.

What that means is that you'll usually see a younger crowd at Starbuck's than at Dunkin' Donuts.  The young--whether or not they're hipsters, or wannabes--tend to use electronic devices more than people who are around my age.  (In a conversation with my brother, I remarked that most of what I know about computers, I learned from my students.)  The folks who run Starbuck's are no doubt aware of this.  Thus, you are more likely to find a portal where you can plug in your I-phone or laptop in the home of extra scalding frozen white chocolate mocha chai than in self-proclaimed home of "the best coffee in America". 


But what do you do if you're out on a ride and you absolutely must plug in your device--and there's no Starbuck's anywhere in sight?

(Disclaimer:  I have never felt any such need while on a ride.  But I have felt another kind of need, and I have stopped in Starbuck's for that!)

Well, if you really, really must recharge that Android when you're on the road or trail, you might think about investing in this:

Hey, don't laugh:  It's green.  Yes, this bicycle--it has two wheels and pedals!--contains a docking station powered by the rotation of the rider's two feet.  And a screen built into the handlebars gives the rider access to the internet via his or her laptop.  I mean, you can't miss those special deals on e-Bay and Amazon while you're riding, can you?

Yuji Fujimura designed this  machine--presumably, with a unique concept of aerodynamics.  After all, its shape will slice through a headwind or slip into the stream of a tail wind.  But the slightest breeze to the side could send the rider tumbling into a field of fair-trade organic soy frappucinos!

Now It's Arielle's Turn!

Today Arielle, my Mercian Audax, decided she wanted to "go camouflage".  After all, if Tosca (my Mercian fixie) could do  it, why shouldn't she?

I couldn't argue with her logic.  So, this afternoon, I took her out on a ride that somehow or another (ha, ha!) ended up in Connecticut.  Why not?  The day was utterly gorgeous, and the high temperature reached 25 C (77F), much lower than what we experienced on Sunday, as was the humidity.

Anyway, before the "camo" shot, I made her pose for something a bit more revealing.  She seemed not to mind:

then a front shot

and one from the rear

Finally, she got her wish.  Now, I took the photos with my cell phone, so they aren't the best.  But the sun was so bright that the light purple flowers seemed to be reflections of the sun:

All in all, I had another great day and great day.  Good thing:  Rain is forecast for tomorrow.   Maybe it's time to ride one of my fendered friends.

Six Years: Thanks For Reading, Again!

Six years ago today, there was an Event.

All right, I'll dispense with the capital "E".  Undeniably, though, something started that day.  I know:  I started it.

It may not have changed the world at all, or even my own life very much.  Well, at least not in ways most people would see.  But it has made my life a little more interesting.  After all, it's brought me into contact with people I never would have expected to encounter.

It's also caused me to reflect on some of my experiences, which has been, at times, enlightening. 

I am talking, of course, about this blog.  On this date, six years ago, I posted my first "dispatch", if you will.  At the time, I really had no idea of what directions it would take.  My only intention was that it would be related, in some way or another, to cycling.

I also had no idea of whether anyone would actually want to read it--well, except for one person: "Velouria", the author of Lovely Bicycle. She encouraged me to write about some of my cycling experiences and reflections after reading my other blog.

Anyway...I've never come close to having as many readers as she's had.  That's all right.  I never felt discouraged about how few readers I've had at certain times, though I'll admit I was delighted to see that last month, I had more than 40 percent more page views than I had in any previous month (just over 20,000 vs. just over 14,000 in my best previous month). Also, I am thrilled to see that page views are coming from places I never would have expected, like Finland and the Ukraine. 

The thing that keeps me going, however, is that I purely and simply enjoy doing this.  Hopefully, you get at least as much pleasure out of reading my posts!

Afternoon Delight With The Rocket Thrower

I had an Afternoon Delight today.  No, it didn't have anything to do with that.  This is a blog for PG audiences!

All right, that all depends on how you define PG.  Anyway, my afternoon delight was a short but sweet (ah, the cliches!) ride via a circuitous route to Flushing Medow Park.

Tosca seemed content to ride and fade into the background.  She had the chance:

I mean, if she wanted to camoflauge herself, could she have picked a better spot?

Actually, I think she looked quite lovely there.  The folks in the New York City Parks Department do a nice job.

Even if the arrangement had consisted entirely of lilies, Tosca would have been hiding in plain sight of this icon:

The Rocket Thrower clearly has his sights elsewhere.  Good thing:  He probably wouldn't want to see some of the things that go on right at his feet.  

For that matter, he probably wouldn't want to hear, either.  When he was unveiled, for the opening of the 1964-65 World's Fair (held in Flushing Meadow Park), some people said absolutely terrible things about him.  One of the most merciless was the New York Times art critic (who else?) John Canady described The Rocket Thrower as "the most lamentable monster, making Walt Disney look like Leonardo da Vinci".

Robert Moses, the "master builder" behind the Worlds' Fair, famously sneered, "Critics build nothing".  So, perhaps, it isn't a surprise that he tried to console Donald De Lue, the sculptor of The Rocket Thrower.  "This is the greatest compliment you could have," Moses said.  "[Canady] hates everything that is good."

Hmm...I'll admit, it certainly doesn't compare to Da Vinci or Michelangelo or Rodin.  Or even Brancusi.  But it fits into something like a Worlds' Fair, especially one in the age of space exploration.  And, on his lofty perch, nobody can take "selfies" with him!