Sunset Bikes?

A week ago, I gave you, dear readers, a lesson in business history disguised as a post about an aspect of bicycling.

Specifically, I reported on Uber's foray into the bike-share market.  This shows that the company's decision-makers realize are not mistaking their business for their industry, as other companies did before it was too late.  Actually, Uber executives probably realized that in New York and other cities, the model they pioneered--taxis that could be hailed by a phone app--was undermining the taxi industry because there were simply too many on the streets. (This has had tragic results: Six cabbies have committed suicide this year.)  Whatever the case, Uber made the move to dockless bike-sharing, which could be said to be part of the new "share economy"--or of the transportation industry.

Now another company is venturing into a related industry--that of bicycles themselves.  What's really interesting about this story is that this firm, which makes one of the most iconic American products, has an all-but-forgotten history as a bicycle manufacturer.  And the products for which it's currently known have---two wheels!

Yes, I am talking about Harley Davidson.  If you're of a certain age, you remember Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda astride custom Harleys in 1969's Easy Rider.  But, in recent years, the brand's image has become as staid as that of Buick or Oldsmobile--or, ahem, Schwinn.  As it is, milennials are far less likely than anyone over 35 to buy any motorcycle at all, and among those who have the funds and inclination to buy one, Harley is seen as an "old white guy's brand."  

So, one has to wonder whether Harley's introduction of a limted-edition cruiser will achieve its intended goal of reaching younger consumers--especially with its $4200 price tag.  Ironically, Harley's earlier incursion into the bike market, from 1917 to 1922, was also an attempt to "hook" younger people--in this case children--on the company's brand in the hope they would grow up to buy the company's motorcycles.

The limited-edition Harley

Now, I am not trying to knock Harley or motorcycling in general.  My uncle rode for more than half a century and finally got the Harley he always wanted just a couple of years before he had to stop riding.  If anything, I feel sad for him, because he had to stop doing something he loved, and perhaps a little sad for Harley.  After all, the bikes and the brand practically scream "Americana" and they were made, for decades, in Milwaukee by union workers. 

In a sad irony, the tariffs imposed by El Cheeto Grande with the ostensible purpose of protecting American workers and industries may deal another, if not the ultimate, blow to a company that's been on the ropes for some time.  More than one analyst familiar with the company and industry says that for some time, overseas sales have been keeping Harley-Davidson afloat.  Perhaps the tariffs that were supposed to be the gunboats guarding the company could instead be the torpedo that sinks them--and one has to wonder whether their bicycles will be their life preservers.

Some History On EBay

Here's something the author of Disraeligears (no, not the Creem album) would love, or at least appreciate.  So would another one of my favorite bike bloggers, The Retrogrouch.  For that matter, I would, too.

Back in the mists of time, before the cycling world was ruled by Campagnolo, Shimano and SRAM, a bicycle component manufacturer was beginning its ascent in the Land of the Rising Sun.  They would enjoy dominion in the world of quality bicycles--save, of course, for Campagnolo's racing colony--long before most had heard of Shimano or SRAM was even a seed in the great plains of cycling.

(Can you hear Sprach Zarathustra in the background?)

That company's demise came in much the same way as the deaths of other empires:  through complacency, hubris and responding to a threat that really wasn't.  That is the reason why its beginnings are, if not lost in the mists of time, at least not remembered by many.

That company was called--ironically, in retrospect--SunTour.   In 1964, its chief designer created a derailleur with a design--called the slant parallelogram--that would change derailleurs for ever.  For about a decade prior, however, it would offer derailleurs that seemed to be derivatives, if not copies, of Huret mechanisms of that time.  

The SunTour 8.8.8 wide in the photo does, in fact, bear both mechanical and visual semblances to the Huret Competition from the same period.  The derailleur Louison Bobet, the first cyclist to win the Tour de France in three consecutive years, rode is a refinement (some say just a re-badging) of that derailleur. SunTour's version, on the other hand, has a longer cage and might be considered a "touring" version.

Both derailleurs are on eBay.  For $158, plus $12 shipping, you can have the SunTour sent to you from Japan.  The Huret "Tour de France", on the other hand, will set you back $999.52.  But at least shipping is included and, hey, not only is it associated with one of the greatest cyclists of all, but the seller claims to have received it as a gift from Tom Avenia, one of the folks who kept the torch burning during the "dark ages" of cycling in the US.

I'm a Francophile, and I still have a soft spot for SunTour, in spite of the blunders that led to their undoing.

A Carpet Under Me, A Canopy Above Me

Sometimes everything is just right...

I love the sun, but the best riding conditions for melanin-deficient folks like me are the ones I had on Friday, when I pedaled to Point Lookout.  It's what one often experiences in coastal areas:  thick, heavy, puffy clouds that cast shadows across the sky but pose no threat of rain.  They even break, now and again, for rays of sunlight--or just to give a peek at opaque blue windows.

The temperature held steady at around 21C (70F), with just enough wind to feel at my back on the way out and in my face on the way back.  I would have preferred that the wind was blowing the other way, but it didn't do much to slow or tire me on my way back.   I feel I could pedal all day, every day, in such conditions.

Of course, it helped that I was astride Dee-Lilah, my new Mercian Vincitore Special.  She's like a magic carpet:  so quick and so comfortable.  I also don't mind that guys on carbon and titanium bikes were complimenting her!

I really was lucky.  I mean, having such a great bike and conditions at the same time:  Who could ask for more?

When Passing Other Cyclists....

It's one thing when motorists cut us off, swear at us or otherwise behave badly.

It irks me even more, though, when cyclists are inconsiderate toward each other.

With that in mind, some folks in Merrie Olde England have made a video about something only they can teach us:  How To Be A Gentleman/Lady Cyclists.



Most of the suggestions are commonsensical:  pointing out road hazards, giving a boost to someone who's lagging and helping out with repairs. I had to laugh, though, at the bit about sharing food--including Pringles!  And, after offering suggestions in that oh-so-British understated way, we're told that, ahem, we shouldn't pass wind as we pass each other.

Oh, and don't forget to bring your wallet!

Offering An Illusion Of Safety

Sometimes there just isn't a better way.

I am reminded of that whenever I ride along the North Shore of Long Island and eastern Queens.  The area offers much, from mansions and country clubs with the Gatsby vibe to picturesque towns like Roslyn (where, incidentally, Gabriela Mistral--the first Latin American and fifth woman to win the Nobel Prize for Literature--spent her last few years) as well as tidal wetlands, beaches, bird sanctuaries--and cliffs.  Best of all, there are actually some nice roads for cycling and a few bike lanes, including one that winds along the bay near Udall's Cove Park. 

Cyclist riding on Northern Boulevard near the Little Neck Bay bridge

The problem is in getting there from my part of Queens.  I know a few decent routes that will get me to Bayside, about 20 kilometers from my apartment.  Little Neck Bay, an arm of the Sound, reaches into the neighborhood, and you have to cross it in order to get from Bayside to Little Neck and Nassau County.  Oh, I could get around that body of water if I take a detour southward--one which I actually don't mind, as there are some quiet side streets and a rather nice park (Alley Pond) along the way.  I don't mind, as long as I have enough time or am not trying to stay ahead of rain I didn't anticipate before my ride.


But if you want to go directly from western Queens, where I live (just across from Manhattan), there is only one choice if you don't want to swim or take the Long Island Railroad:  Ride the Route 25A, a.k.a. Northern Boulevard, bridge over Little Neck Bay.  

Northern Boulevard is a four-lane road.  For most of its length, at least in Queens and Nassau County, it is a commercial thoroughfare,  which means that it is heavily trafficked.  But even where it cuts through parks and nature preserves-- as it does on either side of the Bay bridge-- there is little if any respite from the traffic because, as it happens, highway exit and entrance ramps veer from and merge with the road near the bridge.

At 6:30 on a summer morning almost two years ago, 78-year-old Michael Schenkman was cycling eastward, in the direction of the bridge--ironically, on his way to the nearby Joe Michaels Mile Bike Path.   A black Chevrolet Impala traveling in the same direction on Northern collided with Schenkman, who died shortly afterward.  The driver, to his credit, remained at the scene.

223rd Street and Northern Boulevard, where Michael Schenkman was killed

After the crash, the city's Department of Transportation came up with a plan to create a bike lane on the north side of the bridge by taking out a lane of traffic.  The local community board approved it, but changed its mind just as the DOT was beginning to work on it last September.  Tomorrow, members of that board will march along the side of the bike lane project.  They--led by State Senator Tony Avella--want the DOT to scrap the lane and, instead, expand the width of the sidewalk so that it can be shared by cyclists and pedestrians.

As someone who has pedaled that stretch of Northern Boulevard dozens of times, I can say that those folks probably aren't cyclists it would be a terrible idea for everyone.  First of all, no one quite knows how wide the sidewalk would have to be in order to accommodate both cyclists and pedestrians--and whether it would mean new construction or taking out another lane of traffic. Either way, it would probably cost more than what board members claim--or, for that matter, the DOT's project.

Worse, though, is that the sidewalk crosses a highway exit ramp.  It's bad enough when pedestrians have to walk into the crosswalk with cars streaming on the ramp; I can only imagine the consequences if cyclists and pedestrians are forced to share that crosswalk!

Some experienced cyclists (like me) who are familiar with the area have learned how to at least minimize the risks while riding along the bridge and Northern Boulevard.  A shared sidewalk would give less-experienced cyclists (and those unfamiliar with the area) the illusion of safety, which can be worse than any hazard of the road.

Riding Off With Perfect Attendance

The school year is ending for lots of kids.  Some of them will be rewarded for their academic, athletic, artistic and other achievements--or perfect attendance.

In my day, we got ribbons or medals--or "encouragement" from our teachers and parents. ("You're gonna do it again next year!")  A few kids I knew got material rewards like ice cream, a day at the movies or an amusement park, or even cash.  But 120 sixth-graders in Idaho will receive a prize many of us would have loved--a new bike.

Ryan Rogers, the owner of Rogers Toyota in Lewiston will be giving out the shiny new two-wheelers. The giveaway is part of a program called PASS, for Perfect Attendance Spells Success.  "We've been in business for 48 years," he explains, "and this is just one little thing we can do to give back to our schools and community."

I won't ask whether he sees the irony in an auto dealership giving away bicycles.  I'll just thank him for his generosity and wish he'd been in my neighborhood when I was in school!

If Not Justice, Then Strength. Or So One Hopes.

They were not looking for vengeance.  Instead, they sought justice.  But is it possible when five lives are ended, horribly and pointlessly, and survivors may nurse wounds for the rest of their lives?

Paul J. Bridenstine probably did the best he could under the circumstances.  On Monday, he sentenced Charles Pickett Jr. to 40 to 75 years in prison.  Given that he has already served 734 days (just over two years) and that he is 52 years old, Pickett won't be eligible for parole until he is 90.

What caused Bridenstine to mete out such a sentence?  Two years ago last week, Pickett--who was driving 58 MPH in a 35 MPH zone while under the influence--plowed into a group of cyclists out for their weekly social ride.  He didn't hit his brakes until he hit the first cyclist.

Last month, he was found guilty of five counts of second-degree murder and five of driving under the influence when he cut short the lives of Debra Ann Bradley, Melissa Ann Fevig-Hughes, Fred Anton "Tony" Nelson, Lorenz John "Larry" Paulik and Suzanne Joan Sippel in Kalamazoo, Michigan. In addition, he was convicted of four counts of driving while intoxicated and causing serious injury to Paul Gobble, Jennifer Johnson, Sheila Jeske and Paul Runnels.

At the sentencing hearing, Johnson spoke of how she lost one of her best friends, Fevig-Hughes.  She rides "only in a group" now.  "I find myself holding my breath as people pass."  Still, despite intense pain, she continues on, inspired by the strength of her friend.

In that sense, she is someone else who gave a moving statement:  Madeline Bradley, the daughter of Debra Ann.  She attended Michigan State University for a semester after her mother's death, she said, but remained "broken".  At first, she thought, nothing remained of her mother until she discovered her strength.  "She continues to protect me with this strength, her strength," she declared.

At least she has that, whether or not there is justice.

Accessorize!

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!