He's Back--And He Has A Story!

Kids always want stuff for Christmas.  When I was growing up, bikes were usually high on the list of things kids wanted "Santa" to leave under the tree.

That has changed.  The days when bike shops could round out their yearly profits with Christmas bike sales (mainly for kids) are long gone.  It seems that even department and toy stores don't sell a lot of bikes at Christmastime, as video games and other electronic toys top "wish lists" today.

Whatever we wanted as kids, our wishes change as we get older.  For one thing, those of us who cycle as adults usually buy our own bikes: We become more particular about what we ride, and it's hard to get someone else, even if he or she is inclined to give a bike as a gift, to buy the right one for our style of riding--and, sometimes, even our sense of style.

Then again, for most of us, Christmas becomes less about getting stuff.  If anything, we start to care more about other "gifts", which can include experiences or simply knowing that someone is alive and well.

I feel that way about Alan Snel.  I have never met him, but I enjoyed reading his blog Bicycle Stories.  

Nearly two years ago, he was struck and nearly killed by a driver in--where else?--Florida.  That driver didn't get so much as a ticket for leaving Alan with a concussion, spinal fractures and a knee that had to be drained of blood.  

He posted several times after that, talking about his move back to Las Vegas (where he'd previously lived and worked) and projects in which he'd gotten himself involved.  Then, after a post about the Interbike show in September 2017, there was nothing on his blog.  I'd hoped that his absence was a result of plunging himself further into the advocacy work in which he's long been involved.

Turns out, that was the case.  He's been writing a book about his road to recovery--which was fueled by his involvement in the budding Las Vegas sports scene-- and is now promoting it.  He even got time on a local TV station:



I'm so glad he's back.  He's been through so much. But, really, what can stop a man who taught his mother to ride a bicycle when she was 64 years old?

And what more should we want for Christmas than to hear a story like his?

(Ironically, when I saw this segment, it was preceded by an ad for a personal-injury attorney!)

On Diet Floats And Hauling Trees

I used to know...all right, I dated...well, umm I...

Well, whatever my relationship to this person (I'll leave it up to your imagination), I remember her mainly for the way she kept her shape.  Or, more precisely,  she claimed that a dietary practice (along with consensual aerobic activity) maintained her fine form. 

So, what was her culinary custom?  Well, she drank Coke floats.  With supper.  With lunch.  Sometimes with breakfast.  And almost every time in between.

Now, you might be wondering how she kept her fine form with a regimen like that--especially when you consider that she made them with Haagen-Dazs, the richest, fattiest and most calorie-laden ice cream available at that time.   Her secret, she claimed, was that she used Tab--the "diet" version of Coke before there was Diet Coke.

She said that she was "making up" for all of the calories in the ice cream plopping scoops of it into a drink that had no nutritional value--not even empty calories--whatsoever.

To be fair, I should also point out that she really didn't eat a lot of sweets.  Perhaps she could have maintained her sinuous silhouette even if she'd made her floats from regular Coke.  At least she didn't follow another practice of "dieters" at that time:  ingesting "salads" made from pieces of canned fruit encased in Jell-O, sometimes topped with Kool-Whip or Reddi-Whip.  I am not a religious person, but I think a good working definition of "sin" is taking a natural food, stripping it of its nutritional value and fresh taste, and encasing it in something that looks and tastes like half-cooled plastic in much the same way animals were stripped of whatever made them alive when they were encased in amber.

I must say that I at least had respect for that old, er, acquaintance of mine for not letting one of those abominations pass through her lips.  In comparison, her "diet" floats were at least more palatable.  And the logic behind them made more sense, even if they didn't make sense in an absolute sense. (What did I just say?)

So why am I talking about a beverage (or dessert, depending on your point of view) preference of someone I haven't seen or talked to in decades?

Well, some of you, I am sure, are more diet-conscious than I am. (Actually, most of you probably are.) But, more to the point, something I saw today reminded me of the "logic" behind her "diet" float.

Here it is:

The photo accompanied an article on Canadian Cycling's website.  Said article opens with this:

Transporting a Christmas tree isn't the most straightforward endeavour.  With a car, it often involves ropes, bungee cords and a lot of pine needles to clean up.  Then, when you start moving, the fear that it may fall off the roof.  While there's still some creativity and preparation required to transport a conifer by bike, there's no doubt it's more fun and fulfilling.

Now, I don't doubt that "creativity" and "preparation" are needed to haul a Christmas tree on your bike. I've carried pieces of furniture while riding, so I understand.  I also wouldn't disagree that it's more "fun" and "fulfilling".  Even if I win a Nobel Prize for my writing (or anything), I don't think it would give me the same satisfaction as knowing that I once moved myself and everything I owned from one apartment to another, in another part of town, by bicycle.  

People have all sorts of reasons for doing things by bike, without a car.  For some, poverty is one. But others do it by choice--whether for exercise, or to save money or do something that's socially and environmentally responsible.  Actually, I think that most people who cycle by choice to work or school, or on errands, count environmental and social consciousness as one of their most important reasons for doing so.  

That said, I can think of few things less conscious, and simply more wasteful, than chopping down a tree that will be tossed away in a few weeks.  That is, of course, the fate of most Christmas trees.  Even if, at the end of the holiday season, the tree is cut or shredded for other uses, I have to wonder whether there wasn't a way the tree could have been more beneficial to the planet.  

Hmm...I wonder whether those folks who bring home their Christmas trees on their bikes are also drinking Coke floats made with diet soda--or fat-free ice cream.

Why I Ride Brooks Saddles

If you know how much a person rides and has ridden, and what sort of conditions he or she likes, it's fairly easy to make equipment recommendations.  Now, some cyclists might prefer one brand over another--say, Continental or Michelin or Panaracer tires--but it's not hard to tell someone what type of tires or gearing, or even bike, would be best for his or her riding.

Saddles, though, are another story.   Lots of internet bandwidth is wasted in arguments about which saddle is "best" or even "right."  For every cyclist who loves a particular saddle, there is at least one other who despises it.  Now, I can tell you that accounts of how long it takes to break in a Brooks saddle are, for the most part, exaggerated.  But even if you and your riding partners agree that tensioned-leather saddles are the best, you won't all agree on which model is the best. (The B17?  The Pro?  An Ideale?)

I believe, though, that I may have just found a way to test saddles.

More precisely, when a task is difficult...outsource it!  What else are pets for?

(My apologies to Marlee.)

She Couldn't Run Far Enough

Too often, drivers get away with murder on cyclists.

I mean that literally.  I have heard and read of too many cases in which a driver who was intoxicated, distracted, malicious or just plain careless rand down someone on a bicycle and never faced any sort of consequence.

Too often, cyclists are seen as folks who "just won't grow up and drive".  Or we're poor, which is just as much of a crime as anything else in a capitalist society.

Either way, authorities think we're inconsequential--or that we "had it coming" to us.

Now, there have been exceptions, and I've reported on a few.  In particular, I am thinking of the arrest, prosecution and sentencing of Charles Pickett Jr., who mowed down five cyclists near Kalamazoo, Michigan two and a half years ago.  He was given a 40-to-75-year prison sentence, with no possiblity of early release.  Given that he had already served two years when he was sentenced, he has another 37-1/2 years to go--which means he won't be eligible for parole until he's 90.

Today I learned of another example of diligence by law enforcement officials in pursuit of a motorist who killed a cyclist.  I must say, the officials involved in this case went well beyond those involved in any other incident of which I'm aware.

Augustin Rodriguez Jr.

In January 2017, Augustin Rodriguez was pedaling to work in Whittier, California.  He wouldn't make it:  a white Lexus plowed into him from behind.

After hitting Rodriguez, that driver "slowed down briefly and then sped up," dragging him several hundred feet under the car, according to FBI documents.  Then the driver fled.

Fifteen minutes later, medics declared Rodriguez dead at the scene.

 A week after that, an anonymous caller pointed Whittier police in the direction of that Lexus' driver:  one Andrea Dorothy Chan Reyes.  She, too, was on her way to work--and running late.   Then she kept on running.

Andrea Dorothy Chan Reyes

She was identified as the driver after employees at a local body shop confirmed that they did front-end work and replaced a broken windshield for Chan Reyes, who claimed that she struck a deer.

Police then searched for the Lexus, which was nowhere to be found--until a string of clues led investigators a month later to Idaho, where the vehicle was found in a garage of a business associate of Chan Reyes.  DNA testing confirmed that the car was indeed the one she drove when she mowed down Rodriguez.

But now Chan Reyes was nowhere to be found.  Five days after the crash, she high-tailed it to Hong Kong, where she has family. Over the next year, she hopscotched between Asia and Australia, using as many as 11 different aliases.

Finally, in April of this year, she was tracked down to Adelaide, Australia, where local police honored a provisional request from the US government and arrested Chan Reyes at the home of her new boyfriend.  She has been in an Australian prison ever since.  

Later this month, a court will rule on her bail request. The expectation is that she will be denied and extradited back to the US, where she would face multiple felony charges.

Whittier police spokesperson John Scoggins would not comment on the case except to say that his department was determined to bring an alleged hit-and-run driver to justice, no matter how far or how long she ran.

I commend his dedication.  I must, however, criticize his choice of one particular word.  To be fair, most people in his circumstances would have used it:  justice.  In a case like this, justice is simply not possible, for justice--whatever it is--cannot bring back a life.  Nor can it "balance the scales" for someone's disregard for said life.   There simply is no justice when one person takes the life of another, in whatever fashion.

The only good outcome in this case--or any like it--is that the authorities take it seriously.  That is to say, they treated it as what it is--one person killing another through negligence or disdain.

This Isn't Why They Bought Their Volvos

Why don't I want to spend five figures (even if I could afford to) on a carbon fiber bike?

I'll give you the same answer that many other longtime bicycle enthusiasts would give:  It's plastic!

All right, I know it's not as simple as that.  Carbon fiber tubing consists of carbon strands molded together with resin, i.e., plastic.  As such, it's stronger than plastic alone, though I still have to wonder just how much use--or abuse--a CF frame can take.

Also, I came into cycling when it was touted as environmentally conscious and friendly.  Making carbon fiber is certainly neither:  Like all plastics, it's made from fossil fuels.  And, if crashed or otherwise broken, it will sit in landfills longer than a trashed steel or even aluminum frame will.

To be fair, though, CF is an advancement over regular plastic.  That (at least to my knowledge) no one has tried to make a plastic bike in at least three decades is testament to that fact.

My becoming a dedicated cyclist more or less coincided with the '70's North American Bike Boom.  That is when large numbers of Americans discovered bikes with derailleurs.  Even the cheapest and heaviest of them were lighter than the balloon-tired bombers or even the three-speed "English racers" most people had grown up with.  

Those ten-speeds not only showed Americans that there were lighter bikes than the ones they rode when they were kids; they also gave people (some, anyway) that bikes could be lighter.  Also, I think that racers of that time started to obsess about weight in ways their predecessors didn't because they felt that they couldn't refine (at least for the purposes of cycling) their bodies much further than they already had.  

This was also at a time before "scientific" training became the norm:  At that time, most racers were still following regimens that their grandfathers followed.  As an example, on the morning he set the new hour record in 1972, Eddy Mercx's consisted of ham, cheese and toast.  No racer would consume such a pre-ride meal today.  Nor would he or she smoke: a practice that was common among earlier generations of riders because it was said to expand the lungs.

So, in the early-to-mid-1970s, the general cycling public and elite racers shared a passion that at times bordered on fanaticism about light weight.  That is when "drillium" became popular, and Huret produced its "Jubilee" derailleur, which is likely still the lightest production derailleur ever made.

That fanaticism is one factor that led to attempts to make all-plastic bicycles.  Another factor was, I'm sure, cost.  But lightness and durability would be the selling points of a plastic bicycle.  At least, that's how people who designed them sold their idea to investors.

I recall one such attempt.  I never actually saw one of the bicycles, but I saw the ads in Bicycling! and Popular Science magazines.  Everything--with the exception of the chain, hubs and spokes--on bikes made by "The Original Plastic Bike Inc." was said to be made of injection-molded Lexan.  Not many of them were produced, and no one knows whether anyone bought any of them.

A few people bought a later attempt at a plastic bicycle--but not nearly as many as such bikes were produced.  Those bikes were sold, unassembled, in boxes, with tools and instructions for assembly.  Still, some of the people who bought those bikes never got them running, either because they got frustrated or because some of the necessary parts weren't included.

If those bikes sound like home furnishings from a well-known chain, there's a good reason:  Those bikes were sold by Ikea in the early 1980s, when the chain was still all but unknown outside of Northern Europe.  In one of its most egregious failures, the company was stuck with thousands of bikes that didn't sell.  Worse yet, a high percentage of the ones that did sell were returned because parts (or even frames) broke and replacement parts weren't available:  almost nothing on metal bikes was compatible with the Itera, as the plastic bike was called.

Itera bicycle, circa 1981

In another irony, another iconic Swedish firm was involved with the Itera.  Volvo wasn't looking to become a bike manufacturer.  But it was interested in making mini-cars, and was looking for ways to make parts smaller and lighter.  Designers and engineers at the company came to the conclusion that their best hope was with plastic.  So, somebody at Volvo decided that it would be best to make other products out of plastics to test their durability.  One of those products was the bicycle that became the Itera.

Itera racing model.  An Ofmega "Maglia Rosa" rear derailleur would be just perfect on this bike, don't you think?

In yet another twist to this story, most of the unsold Iteras that piled up in Ikea warehouses went to the Caribbean, where rust is a problem.   That makes for a further irony, in that Volvo is known in the region less for its cars than its boats and marine engines.

But perhaps the most ironic part of this whole story is that Volvo was, to a large degree, responsible for one of the most brittle and fragile bikes ever made.  Nearly everyone I've met who has owned or even just driven a Volvo car or truck touts its durability and reliability.  Probably none of them ever bought or rode an Itera.  I wonder, though, whether they ever managed to assemble anything they bought in Ikea.

But, if they're curious, they can check out eBay:  Believe it or not, I just saw an Itera listed!