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I've known a few people who started riding their bikes to school or work when their cars broke down.  Two, I recall, couldn't afford to fix their motor vehicles, and one returned to driving after his car was up and running.   The other stuck with cycling to work but wanted to have as many comforts and conveniences on two wheels as he had with four.

What made me think of him for the first time in decades?  I think I've encountered (online, anyway) his distant cousin:  Robert Sept of Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

Mr. Sept's car needed $2000 worth of transmission work. That motivated him to fix up his bicycle.  But he didn't stop with inflating his tires, oiling his chain or adjusting his gears or brakes. His wheels now roll with the weight of a DVD player, cell phone, cup holder, umbrella holder, storage boxes, wallet keeper, LED headlights and tailights--and other things he attached to his frame, handlebars and rear stays.

He seems quite happy with the results.  "It was a relatively cheap investment," he notes, "costs nothing but pedaling to operate [and] gets me from point A to point B." His bike is "noticeable" and "different,' he says  How different?  It "helps keep me out of the sun and weather."  I guess nobody can accuse him of being a fair-weather cyclist.

Now I wonder:  What kind of music does he play?  

You Can Take This Turtle On Your Next Trip

Chris Rock once defined camping as "white people pretending to be homeless."

Or, as a former coworker of mine once put it, "when you don't have room service."

Seriously, though, we have our own ideas about what it is and whether or not we've done, or would do, it.  During the course of bicycle tours, I have slept outdoors, with no shelter besides my sleeping bag:  sometimes under an open sky, other times under bridges and overpasses.  I have also slept in tents and tarps.  But I have never hauled a camper trailer behind my bike!

If you really want to pull a trailer, you can choose between ones with full-sized tents or bubbles that look like RVs designed for ET.  Now Austrian tent specialist GentleTent is offering something new:  a bicycle camping trailer with an inflatable tent.

Yes, you read that right:  inflatable.  The B-Turtle consists of an aluminum frame topped by an inflatable tent wrapped in a  PVC protective cover.  Inside the chassis is a 120 liter slide-out storage compartment for carrying additional gear.  That is also protected by a PVC cover.

According to GentleTent, it can be set up in 10 to 20 minutes.  It can house two people, each of whom can sit, but not stand, comfortably.   While it's made for cyclists, GentleTent says it's meant for pedalecs (electric-assisted bikes) that max out at 25 KPH (15.5 MPH) or less.

The kit, as it's offered, includes the trailer, tent, guy-lines, stakes, repair kit and hand pump.  The price?  2990 Euros (about 3500 USD at current exchange rates).  Hey, that's a steal:  It's not so much more, really, than a night in the Gatsby-themed room in the Plaza Hotel!  

They Don't Make 'Em Like This Anymore!

The other day I was wandering some familiar haunts in Brooklyn with Arielle, my Mercian Audax special.  Along the way, I made a quick detour to look for a sign the world hadn't ended.

All right, so it wasn't so dramatic.  I was, however, relieved and gratified that one of the truly gentle people I've known still has his shop.  If the repair bicycles weren't locked to a rack in front of the store, it would be easy to miss.  

Arnold's Bicycles and Trains is no bigger than my apartment but is chock-full of history. It has been on the same block of Sunset Park for decades.  I don't think Arnold has sold any trains in a while, but I suspect he may have a few leftover tracks or cars in his basement. (Do kids still pine for model railroads at Christmastime?)  He says he still has a few nice old parts but "I've sold most of them over the past few years" as people are restoring all sorts of old machines.

These days, I suspect he makes most of his money from repairs, helmets and other accessories, as well as the occasional new kid's bike.  In addition to his gentleness, everyone who's dealt with him remarks on his honesty, which is probably why his store has weathered the changes in the surrounding neighborhood.

It's hard to believe, but when I stopped by, one of the repair bikes I saw is older than the shop--and possibly Arnold himself:

Like Arnold, it's "the real deal".  In other words, it's what lots of bikes today claim they are:  a Dutch city bike. (Brand:  Victoria) It could have been parked next to an Amsterdam canal yesterday, or 50 years ago, and it wouldn't have looked out of place.  This bike is meant for commuting, as evidenced by at least one interesting feature:

People pay custom frame builders and constructeurs good money for internal generator-light wiring, but here it is on an everyday utility bike!  But the thing that fascinated me most is the crank:

We expect most bikes of this type to have cottered cranskets.  Cotterless sets, we're told, were the province of Campagnolo, Stronglight, Specialites TA and other makers of high-end racing and touring gear.  

This one is made of steel.  Its chainring cannot be changed, but I suspect that it will never need to be.  

Nor will Arnold.  Whatever he sells in his shop, people go to it because of him.  Oh, and there's a place on the next block where you can eat some of the best pork buns you can get without taking a flight to Shanghai!

No Illusions Here!

We all have people in our lives--friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses, co-workers and others--who simply cannot understand why we ride our bikes instead of driving (or taking a train or plane!) to some place or another.

They have probably called us worse than this:

We, however, know why we ride.  That's why, if they looked at us closely, they would find none of the signs of mental disorder.  Instead, they are more likely to see this:

The Future, For Now? Am I Responsible For It?

I'll take credit--but not blame.

No, I'm not channeling El Cheeto Grande.  Rather, I am here now to tell you that a line I tossed off in an earlier post has become a reality--better (or worse) yet, a business plan.

Last year I wrote about the then-new dockless bike share programs making their debut in China.  They have since appeared in European and North American locales:  In fact, there's talk of bringing such services to the Bronx and other parts of New York City not presently served by Citibike.

I called those dockless programs, which allow anyone with the company's app on his or her smart phone to pick up or leave a bicycle, "Uber for bicycles."

Now--you guessed it--Uber is getting into the bike share business.  I am not surprised, really:  If the future is in driverless cars (the Force forbid!) or fewer or no cars, it makes perfect sense for the company to look at other forms of transportation.

Uber is doing something to many other companies failed to do:  look at the industry, not the business, of which they are a part.  Some business writer, I forget whom, said the real reason why the New York Central and Pennsylvania Railroads--at their peak, the world's two largest corporations-- are in the dustbin of history (Funny, isn't it, to quote Marx when talking about business?) is that they didn't realize that they were not just in the railroad business--which was dying in the US--but in the transportation industry.  So, by the time they merged, it was too late to save either of them.

One of the better analogies I can think of in the bicycle world is Schwinn.  They failed to see their role in the bicycle industry, which changed dramatically.  That is why the company started by Ignaz Schwinn in the 1890s didn't start making (or even offering) BMX or mountain bikes until other bike makers, some of them newcomers, had already taken hold of those markets.  The company's management seemed to think that its industry consisted of making and selling people the bikes their parents and grandparents bought--the only difference being that it added derailleurs and skinnier tires to the two-wheeled tanks they'd been making.  

Which reminds me:  For all of the Varsities and Continentals they sold during the '70's Bike Boom, they really missed the boat when, a couple of years in, college students and other young adults started to demand lighter bikes, like the ones offered by European and Japanese makers.  

At that time, the only really lightweight bicycles Schwinn offered were the Paramount and, depending on how you define "lightweight", the Sports Tourer.  The  former was beyond the means of most young people, while the latter was indistinguishable, appearance-wise, from the company's flash-welded bikes.By the time Schwinn started to offer the Japanese-made LeTour and Voyageur, in 1974, the Bike Boom had already crested and people who wanted lighter bikes had already bought Nishikis, Fujis, Motobecanes and Raleighs.

Anyway, it seems like Uber is not falling into the same trap as Schwinn or the railroads.  They are debuting their new share program in Berlin, Germany and, I am sure, will expand into other places.  With the popularity of dockless share programs and the company's name recognition, it seems like Uber has an unbeatable combination--for now.

It'd be nice if they give me credit, though--although it would be nice to be compensated at least as well as someone who created one of the world's most recognized logos.