When In Rome...

Bikes and Kisses.

That was the name of the place from which I rented my bike when I was in Rome.

With a name like that, how could I go anywhere else?

Actually, it's called Bici & Baci, which of course has a rhyme and consonance the translation loses.  As I mentioned in an earlier post, they also rent Vespas and, in fact, the branch I patronized has a Vespa museum.

The branch in question is near the foot of the Via Cavour, only a few pedal strokes away from the Forum and Colosseum.  Other branches are found near the Piazza Spagna (at the foot of the Spanish Steps) and la Piazza della Repubblica.

The real charm of the Via Cavour branch, though--aside from its location--is the folks who work there.  Especially Roberto, who guided me around on my first day.  The three-hour tour is 30 Euros and Roberto gave me a choice between the "tourist sites" tour and one of "hidden Rome".  Of course, I took the latter and was treated to some interesting stories, made all the more interesting by Roberto's storytelling as well as his intimate knowledge of the city. (I tipped him 20 Euros!)

The bike rental fee is 12,5 (that's 12.50) Euros per day, but I was charged 40 Euros for 4 days.  They will place a "hold" of 200 Euros on your credit card if you keep the bike overnight--which, of course, is removed when you return the bike.  

Another recommendation is for the hotel in which I stayed:  Il Tirreno.  The location is hard to beat: literally steps from the Santa Maria Maggiore Basilica (which is worth visiting for its ceiling alone!) and about a five-minute walk from Bici & Baci, the Forum and the Colosseum.  About ten minutes in the other direction will take you to Termini, the city's central depot for intercity--as well as airport-bound-- buses and trains.  

It's on a very narrow street--an alley, really--that winds from the Basilica down to the Via Cavour, which in turn slopes down to the Forum.

My room was small but well-kept and clean. Since I usually get in late after a full day of riding (or walking) and sightseeing, I really don't ask much more of a hotel room.  Also, the breakfast selection is decent (the usual rolls, butter, coffee, cereal, etc, as well as fruit and hard-boiled eggs) and abundant.  There is also a nice little patio/terrace where you can sit and eat, drink or whatever.

The best part of the Tirreno, though, is the staff:  They are friendly and helpful with everything from suggestions for places to go and services.

One of their suggestions included a tiny restaurant directly across the street/alley:  Il Brigantino.  It's really more of a pizzeria than an restaurant, and it's easy to miss.  But I had an utterly decadent pie made with buffalo mozzarella, porcini mushrooms and a local ham.  The lighting is low, but it's has a friendly, inviting "vibe", mainly because of the people in it!

I Don't Think Picasso Tried This At Home

If you can't get to the Musee Picasso, don't worry:  You can still see the "bull's head" he made from an old bicycle saddle and a pair of handlebars.  I've included a picture of it in a few of my posts.  

Somehow I don't think this was his inspiration.  At least, I hope it wasn't:

From Farmer's Weekly

Motor Doping In 1865?

Yesterday, I indulged in a bit of "What If?"cycling history.  If Greg LeMond hadn't won the 1986 Tour, would Americans be aware of bike racing at all?  If he hadn't finished--and won--the 1989 Tour in such dramatic fashion, would many Americans care?  And, if Lance hadn't raced from 1999 to 2005, would any cyclist have become a celebrity in the US?

Now, I'm going to engage in a bit of "What If?" about the bicycle itself.

What if the "safety" bicycle--one with two wheels of equal (or nearly equal) size, i.e., what most of us ride today--hadn't been invented?  What if we were still riding "penny farthings":  bikes with on which the pedals and cranks are affixed to the axle of the front wheel, which is usually much bigger than the rear?

Well, for one thing, to obtain a gear anything like what I ride normally, I would need a front wheel that's as tall--or even a bit taller--than I am!  So would most cyclists, I believe.  Since I have never ridden a "penny farthing", I can only imagine how it feels.  My guess is that it's something like riding a fixed-gear bike that's a few sizes too large.  Riding a fixie on a frame that's a couple of centimeters too high is difficult enough; I don't want to think about what it would be like on a bike that's about twice as high as what I ride!

I won't even try to conceive of what it would be like to ride such a bike with a motor.

Apparently, though, someone has thought about it.  

The designers of Ding3000, a German design studio, worked with BASF to come up with what riders in the Tour, Giro and Vuelta might be riding if someone hadn't realized that a bike with two wheels the same size and a gear-and-chain drive is safer and more efficient than a bike with a very tall front wheel.

You see, this bike not only has a motor in it (which makes the latest form of "doping" possible), it is made of "thermoplastic polyurethane".  Now, we all know that the carbon fiber tubes used in bike frames are woven strands bound together with a resin (plastic).  So, in terms of technology, the modern penny-farthing would seem to be a cousin-in-an-alternative universe to the bikes ridden in today's races.

But you could take this modern relic on your daily commute:  It is equipped with puncture-proof tires and integrated LED lighting.  And, I guess that sitting up so high on the wheel would make you visible to drivers!

What would it be like to see throngs of cyclists pedaling penny-farthings to work every day, or taking trips to parks and beaches?

Or--what if all of those guys (nearly all are male) who deliver pizzas and Chinese food were to trade their e-bikes or motorized bikes for the Ding3000-BASF concoction?

Why Bicycle Racing Has Only Moments In America

When it was still interesting and relevant, Saturday Night Live did a feature called "What If History?"  

Now, I'm going to engage in a bit of speculation "what might have been," at least as it relates to cycling.

What if Bernard Hinault had won the 1986 Tour de France?

What if Greg LeMond hadn't ridden that amazing final time trial in the 1989 Tour and Laurent Fignon had won instead?

Finally, what if Lance hadn't ridden in the Tours of 1999-2005?

In the humble opinion of this blogger who has much to be humble about (!), cycling would never have enjoyed even those brief spurts of popularity it had in the US.  And your blogger who has so much to be humble about would be even more of a geek than she is.

I am thinking about that now in light of some coverage I found on the Colorado Classic.  It's a four-day race in the Centennial State, and today is the second day of this year's edition.

The Denver Post's coverage very clearly showed why interest in racing in the US has been so sporadic, at best.  The one article today's edition devoted to the race focused on an ultimately meaningless breakaway made by Taylor Phinney.  If that name sounds familiar, it's because he is the son of Davis Phinney and Connie Carpenter, two icons of American bicycle racing's near-golden age in the 1980s. 

But his lineage isn't the reason the Post focused such attention on Taylor Phinney.  Rather, he is a "local boy":  he lives in the cycling mecca of Boulder, not far from Denver.

To be fair, most American media outlets aren't paying attention to the race at all.  Still, it's disturbing--at least to those of us who care about cycling--that it only gets attention when it has a "local" angle.  When perhaps the greatest rider of all, Eddy Mercx, was in his prime, almost no attention was paid to him in the US.  The same can be said for Bernard Hinault, who was probably Mercx's most worthy successor, let alone Jacques Anquetil, who held the mantle before Mercx took it.

Whatever comes of Lance's bans or any American racer on the horizon, cycling will never become a sport that vies with baseball, football and basketball--or, for that matter, tennis or golf-- for the attention of Americans unless more attention is paid, by the media and the public, to the overall sport and not only to the "American heroes."

When a sport is about individuals rather than teams (Lots of people consider themselves Yankee fans even if they can't name the second-string catcher.), it is especially important for would-be fans to know how important the domestiques as well as the near-champions are to the sport.  I know it takes a lot of time and dedication, which not everyone has, or wants to devote. That, I think, is a reason why horse racing is dying:  Most people pay attention only to the Triple Crown races and the horses that win them.  A true racing fan knows all of the other horses and riders. (I was never such a fan, but members of my family were, which is how I know this.)

Anyway, congratulations to John Murphy, who won the stage in which Taylor Phinney made his breakaway.

I've Got A Bike, You Can Ride It If You LIke...

Some might say I've lived two cycling lives because I've, well, lived two lives:  as a guy called Nick and a woman named Justine.

Of course, others might say that they are two parts, stages or chapters of the same life.  I wouldn't disagree with that, or that I've lived two lives.

Whichever (if either) is true, I know that some of my experiences while riding as Nick were different from the ones I've had as Justine, while others have been the same.

As for the latter category:  As both Nick and Justine, I've heard shouts of "Nice legs!" from other cyclists, as well as drivers and pedestrians.  I've also heard "You're built!" in both of my cycling incarnations.

When I was in Rome, riding the cute red bike I rented from Bici & Baci, a man on a much lighter and sleeker bike pulled up alongside me and intoned, "Tutto Campagnolo!"

I know he wasn't referring to the bike I was riding. Not his, either:  I could see just enough to know that his Olmo frame had mid-level Shimano stuff on it.  Perfectly good, but certainly not "Tutto Campagnolo."

Since then, I've wondered if his call had another meaning I hadn't picked up.  I mean, I know a bit of Italian, but I certainly am not up to speed on local slang.  

Hmm...Could it have been a pick-up line?  After all, cyclists (and other people) have said stranger and cheesier things:

From the Cascade Cycle Club blog.