A Reunion, A Ride Into The Sunset--And Congee

So, it looks like my "meeting in Kool Orange" might be turning into a friendship.  Or, at least, a cycle-buddy relationship.

Yes, Bill and I went for a ride the other day.  He was on his Kool Orange Schwinn Sports Tourer from 1971, and I pedaled my 1981 Trek 412.  

I know:  I have to post a photo of it on my sidebar, with my other bikes.  I've had it almost a year now.  It's still a work in progress, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to keep it--even after I get the Mercian Vincitore Special I've ordered!

Anyway, Bill--who said he'd been feeling a bit under the weather--was moving at a rather sprightly pace through the backstreets of industrial Brooklyn when we chanced upon a shop in Bushwick.

"Can I help you."

"No, just want to take a look. Any shop with two Bob Jacksons looks promising."

Those bikes were, as it turned out, an entree, an appetizer or whatever you want to call it.  Haven Cycles has quite the selection of vintage bikes:  I noticed, among other bikes, a classic Raleigh Competition, a Schwinn Paramount track bike and a Serotta track bike equipped with Shimano's 10-pitch gearing and gold-anodized Super Champion Arc en Ciel tubular rims.  There was even a Raleigh ten-speed made for the British market (it had the lamp holder brazed to the front fork) and the usual selection of ten- and twelve-speed bikes converted to single-speed city machines--including a lovely metallic lavender Motobecane.

I was especially taken with the Bob Jackson of Robin, the co-owner, who outfitted the bike with Surly's best rear rack, a White Industries triple crankset, Phil Wood hubs and, of course, a Chris King headset.  The frame was intended for loaded touring, and that's how Robin equipped it.

Anyway, she left a comment on my post from the other day, describing an incident later that day that bore too much similarity to the ones I described in that post.  She and co-owner Jon were, fortunately, able to re-unite a stolen bike with its rightful owner a year after it went missing.

After our visit, Bill and I continued riding through back streets of Brooklyn and Queens on a chilly but beautiful late fall-verging-into-early winter day.  He--a photographer--commented that the day's light, as lovely as it was, looked more like early winter.  I agreed and couldn't help but to notice that the day definitely felt like winter once we started crossing the bridges over Jamaica Bay into the Rockaways and back into Brooklyn, near Floyd Bennett Field.

Yes, we rode into the sunset.  Please don't read too much into that:  We rode into the sunset, but not off into the sunset!

Anyway, after that, we rode to his place and he introduced me to King's Kitchen, one of the many Chinese restaurants in his neighborhood: in Sunset Park, right next to the namesake park and a few blocks from Maimonidies Hospital and a point where Asian, Hispanic and Hasidic communities converge.

Few things warm the bones after a cold ride like a bowl of congee!  In all, it was a day of happy endings, wouldn't you say?

Sticks, Stones and Old Inner Tubes

You've heard the expression, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me!"

You haven't?

Well, this post is proof.

Hmm...Maybe the "sticks and stones" should be changed to "rims and spokes".  But they don't break people's bones--unless, of course, they fail and said people crash as a result.

Anyway, here's a whip made from inner tubes:

Of course, one has to be appropriately dressed.  So here's another way to use those old inner tubes:

And your chains can be turned to faithful friends who will stand guard:

I hope you're enjoying the weekend!

How "Bicycle Friendly" Is It, Really?

Toronto is often rated as one of the world's most livable cities, although many cyclists will challenge its 2015 designation as a "bicycle-friendly" community from Share The Road. 

One thing that makes the city inhospitable is the same thing that casts a shadow over cycling in other places:  theft. According to a recent report, only one percent of the bikes stolen in Toronto are ever recovered.

I would suspect that New York and other cities have similarly minuscule recovery rates.  I also imagine that, like the people mentioned in a story I encountered, cyclists who get their bikes back are more likely to have done so through their own efforts than with any help from the police.

In August, someone broke into the locker if Joshua Henderson's condo on the Bay Street Corridor and took his BMC racing bike.  He soon located it in a Kijiji listing:  He knew the bike was his and the person who listed it was the thief because the photos in the listing were taken in the locker.  

Joshua Henderson's bike on Kijiji

So, Henderson set up a meeting and asked the police to accompany him.  An officer told him to postpone the meeting, and he did.  But when he couldn't contact the investigator the following day, he decided to go on his own.  He filmed the encounter, including the part where the thief fled when Henderson announced that the bike is his and the police were on the way.  

In a way, this story has a not-unhappy ending:  Henderson gave police the video and details of the transaction, both of which they credit for helping them catch the thief, who was wanted in other breaking-and-entering cases. Even after all of that, Henderson says he still feels "anxious" riding his bike.

On the other hand, Corrine Dimnik and her husband are anxious about getting new bikes.  Their Cannondale racing bikes were taken from their condo's underground parking garage in May.  Like Henderson, they saw their bikes listed on Kijiji.

Corrine Dimnik's bike on Kijiji

Dimnik says she contacted the seller and scheduled a meeting in front of two uniformed police officers who were taking her statement.  But the officers told her she'd have to reschedule the meeting until plainclothes officers were available.  

About the same time the Dimniks lost their bikes, another was taken from a neighboring townhouse. The neighbor's bike was posted on Kijiji by the same seller but the neighbor was dealing with a different division and got her bike back.  Dimnik told the officer who took her statement about her neighbor's experience but he didn't know anything about it.  

By that time, Dimnik says, the seller wouldn't answer calls about her and her husband's bikes.  They haven't replaced their bikes and, she says, they're not sure that they will. 

I've known a few people who were similarly disillusioned about losing their bikes--and the lack of help they received.  One didn't take up cycling again even after moving to a rural area where bike theft is almost non-existent.

I am sure that there are many, too many, more stories like theirs in the Big Apple, as well as in Hog Town and other major cities--even the ones deemed "livable" and "bike friendly".

World AIDS Day.

Today is the 30th World AIDS Day.   

Beginning in 1988, it's been observed every year on 1 December.  Over the years, a number of events have been held--to raise awareness, funds or simply spirits.  Among those events are, not surprisingly, bike rides.

Although their festivities last year didn't include a bike ride--and, even if it did, people probably would have gone for the free barbecue--Adelaide, in Australia, had one of the best posters announcing the date.

It's Not A Chase! Really, They Swear It's Not!

During my formative years, I went to more than a few movies that featured car chases.  But, I swear, I was dragged to them kicking and screaming.  Really, I was!  

You see, most of my trips to the cinema (That's what I call a "movie house", now that I'm a snotty intellectual!) were made in the company of my father and three brothers.  My mother is not particularly a movie fan, let alone a cineophile, although whenever I go to visit her, we  see a movie together--albeit ones that involve more human interaction than piston-powered pursuits.

Still, I admit, I can get a thrill out of watching a chase.  Back in the day, I usually rooted for the pursued even though I knew he (Yes, he was almost always male, as was the pursuer.) would get caught.  When I watched this video, though, I was actually on the side of the chaser--and he's a police officer!




Of course, his being on a bike has something to do with it.  Also, he was chasing the driver of an ATV, which is illegal to drive on the streets of Washington DC--and most cities.  Thankfully, I haven't encountered nearly as many of them as I've seen motorized and electric bikes in the the bike/pedestrian paths!

As far as I know, that officer wasn't seriously hurt.  And I'm glad he was trying to do his job--though his employers deny that it was a chase--or, at least, that it did not follow the DC police department's "no chase" policy when it comes to ATVs.

Rather, the officer was "following" the ATV rider, according to spokeswoman Karimah Bilal.  It was "typical of what we do in this type of incident," she added.

What If Vivo Had Viva'ed--Or Tech Really Was Superbe?

Today, if you are equipping a bicycle with a derailleur, you are probably choosing from models offered by three companies:  Campagnolo, Shimano and SRAM.  

There are a few smaller makers and marketers of gear shifters, but the Big Three comprise the vast majority of today's offerings.

If you've been cycling for as long as I have, you have seen other derailleur brands come and go, and have probably heard of others that met their demise not long before you started cycling.

When I started cycling in earnest, the recently-departed names I would sometimes see included Cyclo and DNB.  I'd heard about the otherworldly engineering and quality of Sanko derailleurs but would not see one up close until many years later.  

Some derailleurs that were common at the time I became a dedicated cyclist came from Huret and Simplex, two marques that have disappeared into the mists of time. Actually, Huret was acquired by Sachs--which also acquired Maillard, a maker of hubs, freewheels and pedals, and premier chain manufacturer Sedis-- which in turn became part of SRAM.

Less common, but still visible, brands from that time that have disappeared or been absorbed into larger entities include Zeus and Galli (which made those "midnight blue" parts that looked so great on white, silver or chromed bikes!).  While they made some fine derailleurs and other parts, they aren't much more than footnotes, except to collectors.

On the other hand, I and other longtime cyclists still lament the demise of SunTour.  For about a decade and a half, they were making the most innovative and best-shifting derailleurs available.  They also were priced lower than offerings from other companies, which made SunTour derailleurs, by far, the best values available.

Those of us who followed their trajectory believe that their downfall began with their Superbe Tech derailleur. (The Trimec derailleur, which preceded it by a couple of years, wasn't a bad derailleur:  It was just in the "why did they bother?" category.)  The Superbe Tech was, arguably, a noble effort:  It was an attempt to solve a problem that had long bedeviled cyclists who ride in a lot of mud and dirt--and riders in the then-nascent discipline of mountain biking.   That problem is that paralellogram derailleurs, which are usually made up of two linkage plates and are thus "open" inside the parallelogram, sometimes clog with mud, dirt or debris.

Try to put it back together!

SunTour tried to solve that problem with a solid parallelogram, with only one linkage plate.  The problem is that, in order to make up for the loss of spring-back strength afforded by a spring against a second linkage plate, SunTour put a complicated, finicky mechanism inside the parallelogram--and used larger-than-normal upper pulleys and pivots with springs that weren't adequately shielded from the very elements that SunTour tried to keep out of the Superbe Tech's parallelogram!  

Some riders got lucky and rode their Superbe Techs for thousands of miles and several decades.  Others--especially mountain bikers and "rough-stuff" tourists--had their mechanisms fail, without warning, after only a few rides or weeks.

After SunTour ended up in the trail dust of history, a Long Islander named John Calindrelle came up with a seemingly-simple solution:  the "Grunge Guard".  Like its name, it was a simple, if inelegant solution:  basically, a rubber boot that covered the derailleur.  It was inexpensive and did the job well, at least until the material (neoprene)wore out or an edge got caught in a branch, bramble or derailleur part.

So, Mr. Calindrelle came up with another solution:  a derailleur that, technically, differed little from Shimano and SRAM units popular at the time (around the turn of the millenium) and was made like the pricey CNC mechanisms coming from the likes of Paul and other small manufacturers.  The difference was that Calindrelle's derailleur--called "Vivo"--had "lips" that allowed for precise fitting of an improved version of the "Grunge Guard."

Vivo rear derailleur

Apparently, not many of those derailleurs were made.  At least, they were made only for a couple of years. During that time, he made one change in the design: Where the first Vivo derailleurs had traditional cable routing (housing looped behind the derailleur body and into a fitment on the underside of the parallelogram), the revised versions took cables that went straight into the parallelogram from above, which eliminated other points that could clog with mud and bind.

Drawing in patent application for new improved version (V2) of Vivo derailleur

Shimano, interestingly, didn't see his rubber-boot design as a serious competitor against their derailleurs.  The Japanese behemoth, however, wanted to use that cable-routing system. So, in 2002, Shimano bought Calindrelle's patents.  As he later explained, selling his ideas made him far more money than making his derailleurs or boots ever would have.

So...SunTour and Mr. Calindrelle tried to solve the same problem.  SunTour's design seemed like a good idea and was elegant.  However, it had unanticipated flaws that would lead to the failure of the Superbe Tech and, arguably, SunTour itself.  Calindrelle's creation, on the other hand, was inelegant but worked flawlessly--and, ironically, led to the end (if by different means) of his business operation.

How might our derailleurs be different today had SunTour's Superbe Tech design worked--or if it had been more remunerative for John Calindrelle to continue manufacturing his creations?

Bicycle Safety In The City: It's About Him

I have long said that much of the opposition to bicycle infrastructure--or simply encouraging people to get out of their cars and onto a saddle--is really class-based resentment.  In other words, people who are upset when they see bike share docks taking up "their" parking spaces or a bike lane that takes "their" traffic lane away believe that liberal elites are coddling privileged young people who are indulging in a faddish pastime and simply won't grow up.

What they fail to realize is that creating awareness and infrastructure doesn't just protect trust fund kids who ride their "fixies" to trendy cafes where they down $12 craft beers.  A goal of efforts to encourage cycling and make it safer is also to protect those who, by necessity, make their livings on their bicycles.  Edwin Vicente Ajacalon was one of them.

Like most of the folks who make food deliveries on their bicycles, Ajacalon was an immigrant--in his case, from Guatemala.  He arrived in this country--specifically, to Brooklyn--a year ago.

He did not, however, live in the Brooklyn of fixed gears and craft beers:  Though he was only about eight kilometers from Hipster Hook, he lived a world away, in a single room he shared with five other men who, like him, are immigrants who delivered food by bicycle.  And the area in which he usually worked, which realtors dubbed "Park Slope South" some years back, is really still the hardscrabble working-class immigrant community it was when my mother was growing up in it.  The only differences are, of course, that the immigrants come from different places and that the neighborhood--hard by the northwestern entrance of the Greenwood Cemetery--is dirtier and shabbier, and still hasn't entirely recovered from the ravages of the 1980s Crack Epidemic.

Only one block from that entrance to the necropolis, around 5:45 pm on Saturday, Edwin Vicente Ajacalon was pedaling through the intersection of Fifth Avenue and 23rd Street.  There, a BMW sedan smacked into him.



The driver, to his credit, remained at the scene (and has not been charged with any crime). Unfortunately, there probably was nothing he or anyone else could do for Edwin:  Minutes later, the police would find him lying down in a pool of blood, halfway across the block from where he was hit.  Someone checked  his vital signs and found none, which means that, although he was pronounced dead when he arrived at the hospital, he might've died as soon as the car struck him or when he struck the pavement.

All anyone could do after that was to pick up the pieces of his bicycle which, along with a sneaker and a hat, where strewn about the street.

When anyone dies so suddenly and tragically, we can lament the loved ones who will never see him again, and those whom he will never see--as well as the things he won't have the opportunity to do.  For poor Edwin, those things include celebrating his fifteenth birthday.

Yes, you read that right.  Edwin Vicente Ajacalon was 14 years old when he was struck and killed while making deliveries on his bicycle--one year after emigrating, alone, from Guatemala.  He has no family here in the US, save for an uncle with whom he briefly lived.  Like his roommates, Edwin was working other odd jobs in addition to delivering food on his bicycle--and, after paying rent, sending money to his parents in Guatemala.

So...Now we know that bicycle safety is not just a matter of protecting pampered post-pubescents.  In this case, it's about protecting the livelihood of a boy in his early teens and the parents he was trying to support.  And they can't even afford to come to the US to claim his body. 

Greetings From Asbury Park, New Jersey

By now, everyone has seen what might have been just another postcard from a fading beach resort

had it not graced the cover of a certain singer/songwriter's first album.

By now, everyone has heard of Bruce Springsteen and someone's claim of having seen him for $1 before he was famous. I swear, it's true!  

One of the great things about getting to be, ahem, a certain age is that the statute of limitations runs out.  You see, when I saw the then-obscure Bruce, the legal drinking age was 18.  Still, I was a few years shy of that.  So were a couple of the youngsters who accompanied me, and their siblings who were just on the other side of that age.

In those days, the Stone Pony was a "dive bar" in what was then a dying town.  If you were in Atlantic City before the casinos opened--or have ventured more than a couple of blocks away from its "strip"--you have an idea of what Asbury Park was like in those days.

It had become so unfashionable, in fact, that this was nearly demolished:

I used to ride through it and, as often as not, have no company besides a pigeon or seagull or two.  Now it houses a bar and a few stores--and you can't ride through it.  Cycling isn't allowed through the promenade, but even if you've spent your life riding criteriums and downhill slaloms, you couldn't have ridden through the crowd I encountered there the other day.

I'm not complaining.  I had a great ride down there, from my place in New York, and back up to Long Branch.  I reckon I did about 120 kilometers in total before taking the train back.

Though it was warmer--about 14C--the air felt almost as chilly as it did during my Connecticut ride on Thanksgiving day, when I started in OC conditions and the temperature didn't get much above 5C.  I wasn't complaining, though:  My seashore ride had the sun and clear skies I saw during my ride to the Nutmeg state.

No, I didn't see Bruce, or stop at the Stone Pony. I did go by it, though. Not surprisingly, it's become a tourist attraction:  While some parts of the city are still worn around the edges and suffer from unemployment and poverty, the beachfront and downtown areas draw strollers, shoppers and others from around the area.

By the way:  Contrary to what some have mis-reported, Bruce was not born in Asbury Park.  He did, however, spend his formative years--at least, musically--in the city.  

On the other hand,"Bud" Abbott of the Abbott and Costello comedy team was born in AP.  So were Danny DeVito and Leon Hess.  And, as much as it pains me to mention her name, Wendy Williams.  

Oh--a fellow named Arthur Augustus Zimmerman also first came into this world in Asbury Park.  In 1893, he won the first World Championship of cycling.  

Finally--You might say that Asbury Park is where the "joy buzzer" went to die.  At least, that's where its inventor--Soren Adam Sorensen--drew his last breath!

Confession

I have a confession:

Have a great day:

A New Hip And A Broken Heart: A Race Uphill

What do Pittsburgh and San Francisco have in common?

Well, I've never been to the former steel-making capital, but I'm told that, like the City By The Bay, it has some really good Irish bars.

And hills.

In fact, the City of Bridges claims the steepest hill on a public street in the United States:  Canton Avenue is supposedly even steeper than Lombard Street.

And Denton Dailey plans to scale it, and 13 other hills, on his bicycle.  They're part of a race called the Dirty Dozen.  It's being run today, and it's been a part of every Thanksgiving Saturday since 1983.

Denton Dailey

Over the years, 1657 riders have entered the race.  What sets Dailey apart from the others is not his age, even though he is 60:  Three years ago, then-69-year-old Paul Salipante completed the race.  

He also won't distinguish himself if he scores points on the hills:  last year, 58-year-old John Brockenbrough  did that.

So what make Dailey unique--well, almost-- among Dirty Dozen entrants?  

Only one other rider--Gene Nacey in 2011--entered the race with an artificial hip.  In May 2015, Dailey's a ball-and-socket joint ruined from years of accumulated injuries was replaced with a titanium and ceramic hip.  

Surgeons fixed his body.  But they couldn't do anything about his broken heart:  Not long after, a longtime girlfriend broke up with him.  Dailey says his intense training of the past year has been as much a way to recover from that as well as to acclimate to life with a new hip.

However the race ends, Denton Dailey--who is a professor of, ironically enough, robotics and electronics at a local community college--sounds like a winner to me!