2016: It Never Ends

Now it is time to say "goodbye" to 2016.

A lot of people I know are glad to see this year end.  One reason is, of course, the Presidential election here in the US.   The day after the election, at the college in which I teach, a mournful, even funereal haze seemed to envelop the hallways and the surrounding neighborhood--which happens to be part of the poorest (of 435) Congressional District in the United States.  The atmosphere brought to mind the accounts I've read of the 1952 "Killer Fog" in London:  Students and faculty members, as well as people I saw shuffling along the Grand Concourse and 149th Street, seemed to have had the energy even to gasp for air sucked out of them.

But even Trump supporters (yes, I know a few of those!) seem happy to see this year end.  For one thing there were the deaths of great and merely famous people.  I haven't made a count, it does seem that more have left us during the past twelve months than in other years I can recall. Some, as sad as they were, weren't so surprising:  I'm thinking, for example of Elie Wiesel, who was an old (if still vibrant) man and Muhammad Ali, who had been deteriorating for decades.  But others, like Prince, George Michael and Carrie Fisher, took most of us by surprise.  Then there were the no-less-tragic deaths of people of whom we never would have heard save for the ways they died.  I am thinking, in particular, of Melissa Ann Fevig-Hughes, Suzanne Joan Sippel, Debra Bradley, Tony Nelson and Larry Paulik, all out for a late-day ride in Michigan when they were mowed down by an SUV driver who was charged with murder.

Also, even though many voted for Trump based on empty slogans and other rhetoric, misperceptions about what (if anything!) he actually represents or simply plain, flat-out lies they believed, they (at least the ones I know) are no less angry or disillusioned than they were before the election.  What I find interesting, and almost amusing, is that they sometimes talk about the "liberal" media lying to them about crime, immigration and other issues--and tell me (and probably others) that the "liberal" media disseminated lies and misinformation that, in fact, came from the lips of Trump or his troupe during the campaign.

Anyway, the election has come and gone.  So have some celebrated people.  But there was still much for which I am grateful and happy.  My work life has gone well.  I have been writing (apart from this blog!) and my students and I are moving forward (I believe) in my "day job".  As for my love life...Well, let's say I've had a semblance of it, without really trying.  I don't think I've met (or will meet) someone with whom I will spend the rest of my life.  But then again, I haven't been looking for anyone like that.

This year, though, has brought me reunions with a couple of old friends and the beginning of a reconciliation with an estranged relative.  And it--like the past couple of years--has brought me into contact with people, mainly through this blog, in other parts of the world.  Perhaps we will meet some day.

If we do, it might be on a bike ride.  Cycling, of course, has been one of the constants in my life for decades.  This year was no exception.  I did some rides I've done dozens, or even hundreds, of times before, and saw, heard, felt and thought what I couldn't have--or couldn't have even conceived--when I first started riding. I also did a couple of new rides I hope to do again and, of course, took a trip to Paris, where I spent many happy hours pedaling through valleys flanged by gray and beige stone building facades, and along pathways that cut through parks and line the canals.

Riding has been, this year and in others, not merely a means of escape or even transportation, although it has served those purposes.  It has, I now realize, taken on another interesting role in my life.  When I first became a dedicated cyclist, as a teenager in the 1970s, it was a kind of rebellion:  Other kids abandoned their Schwinn Varsities and Continentals, Raleigh Records and Grind Prixes and Peugeot U08s the moment they got their drivers' licences.  I continued to ride.  Then, in college, a lot of my fellow students rode their bikes to class or for errands, but not for any other purpose.  So, even though I wasn't consciously rebelling, I was seen as if I were--or, at least, as some sort of misfit (which I was, though in other ways).  

After college came a series of jobs and moves (including one to Paris).  I continued to ride, and the wind and vistas--whether of wide boulevards or narrow alleys, or of industrial soot turning to suburban sprawl and, finally, to orchards and fields of horses--or of seeing the ocean spreading itself before me after a couple of hours of pedaling--have all imprinted themselves on my consciousness.  In fact, I feel as if they are part of my body, intermingled with every ion and neuron in me.

In brief, my cycling started off as a kind of rebellion--conscious or not--but has become the very thing that has kept me from feeling alienated from the world around me and, most important, myself.  If I've learned nothing else this year, I feel that lesson--along with my riding, blogging, writing and experiences with people--have made this year worthwhile, even rewarding, amidst all of the pain and confusion in the world around me.

The Oldest Tour Winner Dies: Ferdinand "Ferdi" Kubler

Yesterday, I mentioned that Scots have made more than their share of contributions to the development of bicycles and cycling.  Today I am going to mention a country that has produced more than its share of world-class cyclists, and one of those cyclists in particular.

After Belgium, Switzerland has probably turned out more elite racers in proportion to its population than any other country.  One thing both countries have in common, besides great chocolate, is that they're both small and multi-lingual.  Now, whether that has anything to do with their status as velocipedic hotbeds, I don't know.  (Personally, I think the chocolates would be more of a factor!)  One might also argue that topography is a factor.  Belgium has a wide variety of terrain, from mountains in the south to table-flat land in the north, which also means varying weather conditions.  Switzerland also has widely varying weather, but as a result of one type of landscape that dominates the country:  mountains.

So, not surprisingly, some of the sport's best climbers came from the Alpine nation.  One of them can be seen in this photo, climbing Mont Ventoux during the 1955 Tour de France:

He is none other than Ferdinand Kubler, who became the first Helvetian winner of the Tour in 1950.  This victory was particuarly sweet for "Ferdi", who won stages of the 1947 and 1949 editions of the Tour but did not finish either.  The 1947 running of the race was the first since 1939, when World War II broke out--and when Kubler was beginning his professional career.

Ferdi Kubler encouraged by his wife, Rosa, at the peak of a grueling climb.

So, even though he had a more impressive palmares than 99 percent of those who've ever raced, it's still difficult not wonder "What if?"   When he won the Tour, he was already 31 years old:  an age at which even the best riders are starting the downward slope of their careers. (Eddy Mercx retired at 33.)  He would stand on the Tour podium one more time, four years later, when he finished second. In 1951--the year in which he also won the World Championship--and 1952, he finished third in the Giro d'Italia.  He never entered the Vuelta a Espana, but at that time, it didn't have the stature it now enjoys.

Hugo Koblet in 1950

Interestingly, in 1951--the year after Ferdi's win--Hugo Koblet would become the second Swiss Tour de France champion.  The two riders could hardly have presented a greater contrast, each defying Swiss stereotypes in entirely different ways. While Kubler was devoted to the family who accompanied him to his races, he was known as a high-spirited and even impulsive rider who sometimes made strategically unwise attacks.  Koblet, on the other hand, was a "rock star" of the racing world:   Female fans flocked to see the "Pedaleur de Charme" with matinee-idol looks, and he had a reputation for high living and hard partying.  He married a model who would divorce him a few years later.   However, on the bike he was a very disciplined and pedaled with an elegance and grace that would not be seen until Stephen Roche came along three decades later. 

Hugo Koblet as he is often remembered.

Another contrast can be seen in what happened to Kubler and Koblet after their respective Tour victories.  Although he never replicated the Tour victory, Kubler continued to race at a high level for another half-decade, continuing to win a number of "classics" before retiring from competitive racing in 1957, at age 38.  Koblet, however, "crashed" after the 1951 Tour: Jean Bobet (brother of three-time Tour winner Louison Bobet) said, "we saw him unable to ride over the smallest hill".  The writer Olivier Dazat described a "suddenly aged" man who "seemed preoccupied"--probably with his marital, debt and tax troubles.  

Koblet's death at age 39, in 1964, is widely believed to be a suicide.  Kubler, in yet another contrast, spent his 97th Christmas with his family before dying a few days later--yesterday--in a Zurich hospital.  He was the oldest living Tour de France winner.  And, in a nation that has produced many great bicycle racers, he was chosen as Sportsman of the Century.

This "Mac" Is Almost 200 Years Old. Would We Have Gore-Tex Without It?

If someone were to ask you which countries contributed the most to the development of the bicycle, which would you name?

I'd bet that most of you would name one or more of the following:

• England
• France
• Italy
• Japan
• United States.

Any or all would be valid choices.  A case could also be made for Germany:  like the US, it played significant roles in the early history as well as the current development of the bicycle, although there was a "gap" of a few decades.

One country that played an inordinately large role in the early development of the bicycle is Scotland.  Now, some of you may argue that it's part of the UK and therefore the Scots are British.  But, as much as I love the English and things English (Hey, I teach their literature!), I see the Scots as an independent people who have had a history and culture distinct from their neighbors.  If I don't understand that, well, I've had no business teaching Macbeth.

The single most important technological development in the history of cycling--indeed, one of the most important technological developments in history, period--came from the hands of a Scottish veterinary surgeon who practiced in Northern Ireland. 

There is still a company that bears his name.  These days, it's best known for tennis equipment and tires for motorcycles, cars and trucks.

And, yes, it made bicycle tires until the 1960s.  In fact, their clinchers were regarded as the best available and were original equipment on many quality bikes, including Raleighs.  Owners of Raleigh three-speed got very, very creative in extending the life of their tires because they couldn't be replaced with anything that wore as well.  Likewise, owners of Raleigh sport bikes like the Lenton did whatever they could to keep their original Dunlop tires rolling, because the only way to match, or exceed, their performance was to use tubular ("sew-up") tires.  Dunlop also made a steel rim, the lightest of its time, to use with the tire.

John Boyd Dunlop's invention--the pneumatic, or air-filled, tire-- essentially completed the modern bicycle which, arguably, was created by John Kemp Starley a couple of years earlier when he created a machine with two equal-sized wheels driven by sprockets and a chain.  Starley's bike was, essentially, the final major stage in the evolution of the pedal driven bicycle, which was invented by Kirkpatrick Macmillan, another Scotsman. (With a name like that, what else could he be?)

As I said in an earlier post, it's difficult to overstate the importance of the pneumatic tire.  Without it, bicycles would still be slower and less versatile than horses.  So would motorcycles, automobiles and trucks.  And modern aircraft could not take off or land.

Even if no other Scotsman invented anything to improve the bicycle, or the bicycling experience, I think Scotland could lay claim to being one of the most important countries in the development of cycling.  However, I am going to mention another Scotsman who created something that, like pedals and pneumatic tires, made it possible to ride a bicycle under a greater range of conditions.  Some might even argue that his invention made Dunlop's work possible.

One way in which the invention I'm about to mention is different from pedaled bicycles or pneumatic tires is that it wasn't developed specifically for bicycles.  In fact, he probably never rode anything we would describe as a bicycle.  For that matter, he might not have ever seen one.

You are all familiar with his name and the invention that bears it, even though most of you probably have never owned one--or, at least not a "real" one.  There is only one factory in the whole world that makes the "authentic" version.  Still, it has influenced many, many other products in its genre--and items far beyond the scope of said genre.

As I mentioned, it helped to make, if indirectly, Dunlop's tire possible.  And what did that tire--and just about every tire made since--consist of?  Rubber and fabric.  Remember, the original Dunlop tire didn't have a bead:  It was rather like a modern sew-up (tubular) tire.

So what else is made from rubber and cloth?  A certain raincoat:  the Mackintosh.  Its inventor, Charles Macintosh, was born 250 years ago today.


Charles Macintosh was a self-taught Scottish chemist who originally worked on new ways of making dyes.  He succeeded at that, but neither that nor anything else he did would immortalize him in the way his coat--and, most important, the fabric he created for it--would.

He found a way to sandwich a layer of liquid rubber between two layers of cloth.  The key was in mixing naphtha into the rubber compound, which gave it enough liquid viscosity to spread between the layers of cloth but allowed the rubber to remain supple when it dried. 

Mackintosh coats became an instant success:  Everyone from police officers and firefighters to Arctic explorers wore them.  As a result, they became very fashionable and were, perhaps, one of the first unisex pieces of outerwear.

An early Mackintosh:  The Granddaddy of Gore Tex?

But the most important result of Macintosh's work is that he created what was, in essence, the world's first waterproof fabric.  Other attempts had been made to create waterproof jackets and coats:  They either were too stiff to wear or were, well, not exactly waterproof.  The main drawbacks to early Mackintoshes were their stiffness (though they were still more supple than other raingear), smell and tendency to melt in hot weather. All of these problems were solved by Macintosh and later chemists--and with the vulcanization of rubber.

If you have a Gore Tex jacket, the way it was made was, really, not so different from how Mackintoshes have been made for nearly two centuries.  The Gore Tex membrane is bonded between layers of fabric. And, just as the original Mackintosh (made in a factory in Manchester, England) is taped at the seams, so is any Gore Tex garment that can claim to be waterproof.  Of course, Gore Tex overcomes the other drawback of the Mackintosh, or any other rubberized garment:  Its lack of breathability.

So, I think it's safe to say that the "Mack" did as much to make cycling an activity that can be done in adverse weather conditions as another "Mac" did--at least in the eyes of its fans--to make personal computing easier and more versatile.

(N.B.:  I have composed this, and everything else on this blog and my other, on PCs, mainly out of habit.)
 

A "Bridgegate" For Cyclists?

I lived through a time when the word "nuclear" was almost invariably followed by "holocaust".

Then again, I also experienced a few air raid drills when I was in elementary school.  One of the first stern glares a Carmelite nun directed at me was in response to my innocent (well, maybe not-so-inncocent) question:  "How is this going to protect us from an atom bomb?"

(Of course, now everybody knows that this is what you do in case of a nuclear attack:

• Duck under desk or table.
• Curl up in foetal position.
• Place head firmly between legs.
• Then, kiss your ass goodbye.)

Anyway...just as "nuclear" went with "holocaust", it seems that these days, "bridge" is followed by "gate".  And "Bridgegate" is the first thing people think of when you mention the George Washington Bridge.

Traffic jams have been as much a part of the bridge's 85-year history as corruption has been a part of the politics on both sides of the bridge.  Most of those tie-ups, unlike the ones caused by Governor Christie's acolytes, are not deliberate.  Nor will the ones that will  probably come soon and plague the bridge for the nest seven years.

Actually, the Port Authority's renovation project began last year, when lead paint was removed from the lower deck.  Removal of said paint will continue, and most important of all, the vertical cables will be replaced.  The PA says it will try to time the work to cause the least possible inconvenience to commuters.

Just as the term "human being" meant "white man with property*" to the Founding Fathers, "commuters" means, in PA parlance, folks who drive into the city and, well, maybe those who take the bus.  So, for that matter, does "traffic".

Now, to be fair, the PA plans to improve access to the bridge's bike and pedestrian lanes.  Then again, almost anything would be an improvement over what exists:  Hairpin turns on the New York side of the lane on the south side of the bridge, and steep stairs on both sides to access the lane on the north side.  Worse yet, the stairs on the New York side can only be entered by crossing a heavily-trafficked street that has become a de facto exit lane for the bridge an the Cross-Bronx expressway, and for buses entering and leaving the George Washington Bridge bus terminal.

It's like this on a good day.

But those entrances aren't the worst part of the lanes.  For one thing, in more than three decades of biking (and, occasionally, walking) across the bridge, I have never seen both lanes open at the same time.  Worst of all, though, is that each of those lanes is seven feet wide at its widest. At some pinch points--where, for example, towers are located--the lanes are considerably narrower.  And, of course, the structures that cause the "pinch" also make for very poor sight lines.  At times, I've wondered that collisions and conflicts between cyclists and pedestrians aren't more frequent than they are.

To give you some perspective:  The Federal Highway Administration recommends 14 feet for a two- way bike lane.  And the American Association of State Highway and Transportation Officials recommends 16 feet.  

In other words, the lanes are half as wide as is generally recommended.  And, just as the GWB is the nation's busiest commuter crossing for motorists, its bike and pedestrian lanes are also among the nation's busiest.

Now, are you ready for this?  The Port Authority's plans call for reconstructing the bike and pedestrian lanes.  The north lane will be designated for cyclists, and the south for pedestrians.  Sounds good so far, right?

New Jersey entrance to the bike/pedestrian lane on the south side of the George Washington B

And the bike lane will indeed be wider.  How much wider?  Check this out:  one foot.  So the new bike lane, according to the plan, will be 8 feet wide.  There is nothing to indicate that narrower "pinch points" won't be eliminated.  Perhaps they can't be.  But I have to wonder why, if the Port Authority is planning what is essentially a once-in-a-century project, it can't or won't build the bike and pedestrian lanes to modern standards. Instead, it plans to rebuild the lanes to the standards that existed in 1931, when the bridge opened.  

Now, I don't know much about the economics of major public works projects.  I can't help but to think, though, that in relative terms, it wouldn't cost much more to build a modern path than the one that's planned--and, better yet, to build  a bike path on a separate, lower lever from the pedestrian lane.  Certainly, doing so would cost less than building another lane as a stand-alone project at a later date.

Artist's rendering of a possible bike laneconstructed at a lower level alongside the current lane on the north side, which would be reserved for pedestrians.

Oh--one other thing is planned in the reconstruction:  a fence, a.k.a. a suicide barrier, along each lane.  I'm not going to argue that such a barrier shouldn't be installed:  It's likely that most of the suicides that have occurred from the bridge were preventable.  I can't help but to wonder, though, whether the barriers will make riding or walking across the bridge feel even more claustrophobic than it already is at times.

Exposing "What Have We Here"

Now I'm going to expose you to some real "bike porn."

I stripped a bike bare.  Yes, stripped it.  And photographed it when it was in a compromised position. 

I'm so heartless and exploitative, aren't I?

Well, I didn't strip the bike completely bare.  Three parts that came with the bike--and which I intend to use--are on it.

That thing clamped near the bottom bracket is a cable guide.  The only things brazed to this frame are a "stop" on the underside of the downtube for the shift-lever clamp and a cable guide on the chainstay.  When this Trek was made, such an arrangement was common.

Somewhat more significant is a part you can't see:  a Sakae Ringyo Laprade seatpost. In keeping with the time the bike was made, it's fluted.  

Sakae Ringyo (SR) Laprade

But most important, it's good.  In fact, some might say that it's the first modern seatpost.  That is wrong only because its design copied the French Laprade seatpost made by a small company called JPR.  Very few of those posts made it here to the 'States--or, from what I can tell, anywhere outside of France. 

JPR Laprade seatpost

SR's version is slightly heavier but, frankly, has a nicer finish (much as it pains me, as a Francophile, to say such a thing) and cost a fraction of the French version.  Moreover, SR was one of the major original-equipment suppliers to bike manufacturers of the 1970's and 1980's.  Finally, it seems that SR offered a greater variety of sizes than JPR did.  So guess what people bought when they upgraded their old bikes or built new ones?

The rest, as they say, is history:  Most modern seatposts adapted the Laprade design: one easily-accessible bolt on the underside of the clamp.  In fact, some companies even call their versions "Laprade-style" seatposts.  The Nitto seatposts on my Mercians all share the design.

The third part on the frame turned out to be one of the most pleasant surprises on this bike.  I took apart the headset to clean and grease it

Yes!  Roller bearings!  That means it's the legendary Stronglight A9 headset.  Best of all, it's alloy, not the plastic version that came on some bikes of that era.  

Stronglight A9:  the headset that came with this bike

That headset is almost as nice of a surprise as the Phil Wood rear hub that came with the bike.  One of my loyal readers asked about that hub, and we're working out a swap.  I would have kept it, except that it's 48 hole.  As I don't think I'll ever own a tandem, I really don't need that hub.

I sold the crankset that came with the bike.  It's an SR forged set, with a nice finish, but it has an obsolete bolt pattern (118 BCD).  I'm guessing the buyer (on eBay, where else?) is doing a period restoration. I could have gotten satisfactory gearing with that crankset, but I'm going to use another that will make it easier to get useful (for me) gearing.  Don't worry:  It has a classic five-bolt spider and doesn't look like a Christmas ornament left on a radiator and painted with anime graphics.

So far, I think I lucked out:  Remember, this bike came from an estate sale!