All of my bikes have steel frames. Some, however, were made recently and have modern componentry. The others are older and have components that are more or less "period correct."
Even if one weren't well-versed in the nuances of modern vs. retro machines, he or she could tell which bikes are which by one tell-tale detail: the brake cables. My modern bikes have aero levers with concealed cables (or, in the case of Vera, my Mercian mixte, inverse brake levers with cables hidden under tape) while my older bikes have traditional cables that loop from the tops of the brake levers.
Hidden "aero" cables were designed, as the name implies, for aerodynamics. For my purposes, that doesn't matter much. The reason I use aero levers are that they're designed to work well with modern brakes--and because I like the feel of one lever in particular: the Cane Creek SCR5/Tektro RL 200.
(Cane Creek's lever is a Tektro with a nicer finish and little gekkos embossed on the hoods. Both levers, lamentably, were discontinued several years ago.)
When I was an active mountain biker, I wished there were an "aero" version of mountain bike brake levers. I found that, even though my mountain frames were smaller, I needed longer cables and housings because in tight technical stretches, I was more likely to make a sharp turn, even to the point that my bars were almost parallel to the top tube.
The problem came when riding through areas of bush and bramble: The cables, on occasion, would become entangled in them. Siddesh Dubal, a Purdue University student and researcher, had the same problem. Unlike me, he came up with a solution. "I created this device based on my own experiences while mountain biking in India and other places," he explains.
I'm probably not the first person to look at it and wonder, "Why didn't I think of that?" Apparently, he used a modified top cap from a headless headset (which practically all new mountain bikes use) to rout the cables through the steerer tube rather than across the stem and along the top tube. The result, Dubal says, is something that "provides safety and convenience for riders, and is also simple and cheap to manufacture and install on a bike."
Will it make him rich? Who knows? Somehow, though, I think Siddesh Dubal has a bright future--as a cyclist and in whatever career he pursues.
Last week, I wrote about the current bicycle shortage and compared it to a similar scarcity during the 1970s Bike Boom. Then, I waited three months for my Schwinn Continental, not a custom-built frame. Today I want to talk about another parallel between then and now.
There probably was never a time, save for the 1890s (or now), when everyday people were more aware of cycling and cyclists as they were from about 1969 to 1974. Back then, governments at every level from counties to the nation were floating plans to build "bikeways" (as bike lanes were called then) to, perhaps, an even greater degree than we see today.
Back then, regular cyclists included Dr. Paul Dudley White, President Eisenhower's personal physician and a founder of the American Heart Association; Stewart Udall, the Secretary of the Interior under Presidents Kennedy and Johnson and one of the founders of modern environmental movements; and John Volpe, Secretary of Transportation. Also among their number was Carl Bernstein, who helped to expose the Watergate scandal and, much to his chagrin, one of the Watergate "burglars" he exposed!
As transportation writer Carlton Reid notes, the 1970s Bike Boom offers hope, as well as cautionary tales, for today's "Boom". One hopeful sign is that while, in some areas, cyclists are stereotyped as overprivileged milennials or hipsters--the bohoisie or bourgemians, if you will: the very antithesis of a rebellion against consumer capitalism--back in the day, adult riders were labelled as "bike freaks" who were hippies, commies or worse.
More to the point, though, too many decisions about bicycle policy were being made by people who weren't cyclists and, worse, didn't have the collective memory, if you will, of cycling that Europeans and people in other parts of the world could draw upon. So there was an emphasis on "bikeways" that separated cyclists completely, not only from motorized traffic, but the community in general: They were good for leisurely weekend rides, but not for transportation. That is one reason why the massive bike sales of the early 1970s (which dwarfed mountain bike sales during their late 1980s-eary 1990s boom) did not translate into a culture in which bicycles were an integral part. Once the "boom" ended, many people hung up their bikes for good.
That ignorance of cycling extended to law enforcement officials, as it too often does now. I have been stopped by cops who insisted I broke the law when I didn't and that I should engage in practices that actually endanger cyclists, such as riding all the way to the right and following traffic signals when crossing busy intersections.
Also, as Reid points out, while bikes from that era are called "vintage" and sell for high prices on eBay, the fact is that most bikes sold during that time were of low quality. In other words, when most people bought Schwinns or Raleighs (if they didn't buy department-store bikes), they weren't buying Internationals or Paramounts, they were shelling out their money for Records or Varsities--or for any number of low-end models from makers like Atala or any number of smaller companies that haven't been heard from since. Most people never learned to even fix a flat, let alone take care of more complex problems, so when things went wrong, they never got fixed. Moreover, most of the bikes sold really weren't designed for the way people were riding them. That is why, for example, lower-end ten-speeds came with brake extension (a.k.a. "suicide") levers: Most casual cyclists are better off with upright or flat handlebars than on drop bars.
So, Reid cautions that we must learn that--as Richard Ballantine argued in his 1972 book--"bikeways" alone are not alone the answer. For one thing, it's much better to take lanes and streets from vehicular traffic and to raise awareness of cyclists, pedestrians and motorists alike of cyclists' right to ride. So are bikes that are suited to the riders' needs and inclinations. Otherwise, a lot of the bikes purchased today will be hanging in rafters--or buried in landfills--by 2030.
There's nothing like cycling in France (or even my memories of it) to make my heart sing. And even though one has to contend with traffic and other inconveniences one encounters in other large cities, cyclists in Paris are at least not seen as freaks or intruders, and are treated with respect.
Still, there are some streets in the City of Light that aren't for the faint of heart. One of them, until recently, was the Rue de Rivoli. Of course, no trip to Paris is complete without a walk or ride along its most famous streets, which runs from rue de Sevigne (near the Place de la Bastille) to the Place de la Concorde, and includes the Louvre, Tuilieries gardens, Le Marais and numerous hotels, restaurants, stores and bakeries tucked into dazzling belle epoque buildings. I have cycled this route, one of the first "straight-arrow" streets in Paris, numerous time. But I must say that I wasn't intimidated because I've cycled Fifth Avenue, Broadway and other major venues in my hometown, as well as some of the major arteries of other major cities.
Now I wish I were there: It's closed to traffic. That closure is part of Mayor Anne Hidalgo's efforts to encourage cycling and walking, particularly as the Metro and buses are running on COVID pandemic-induced restrictions. "I would like there to be an axis dedicated exclusively to bikes and another reserved only for buses, taxis, emergency vehicles and craftsmens' vehicles, but not cars," she told reporters.
Mayor Hidalgo has said that the closure will continue through the summer, but could be made permanent.
Yesterday I took a late ride out to Point Lookout.
It was a CBC day: clear, breezy and cool--with the emphasis on all three. The sky was as bright as the day was brisk. When I crossed the Veterans' Memorial Bridge from Broad Channel to the Rockaways, the temperature, already chilly for the time of year, seemed to drop by about ten degrees.
The season's first hurricane tacked east just when it was forecast to brush across the mid-Atlantic coast. So we were spared a deluge, but gifted the wind, which blew from exactly the right part of southeast so that I pedaled into it all the way from my apartment to the rocks.
And I was pedaling into the wind, which at times gusted to 60 KPH (37-38 MPH), blew from exactly the right part of the southeast so that I was pedaling into it all the way from my apartment to the rocks.
In a way though, it was a "perfect storm": The ride home was a breeze (pun intended). But along the way, in both directions, the tides washed over the sand in the Rockaways and the rocks at Point Lookout.
The shower was invigorating, but I might've liked it more had the day just been a bit warmer.
Still, it was a perfect storm for a ride.
Many moons ago, during my "Ayn Rand phase," I was trying to understand how markets, and the stock market, worked. During that time, I chanced upon a book by someone (whose name I've forgotten) lost all of his money--and some he borrowed from relatives--in the stock market while it was at record highs.
I forget which stocks, exactly, he bet on and lost. I have to credit him, however, with this: He helped me to realize, at a tender age, that the stock market really isn't much different from a casino. Years later, during the boom of the 1980s, I would come to learn that many of those gamblers in expensive suits were coke (and I'm not talking about The Real Thing) addicts.
Still, it's interesting to ponder the question of why some prosper during hard times while others who seem to be doing all the right things fail just when conditions seem right for their success.
In the latter category is General Motors. I'm not going to talk about their 2009 bankruptcy which, along with the insolvency of Chrysler Motors, almost turned the crisis of 2008 into a full-blown depression. Rather, I am going to mention their latest ill-fated move: Their entry into the e-bike market.
Late in 2018, GM announced its electric bike program with a flashy contest to name the e-bike. From it, the name "Ariv" emerged and was introduced in February 2019. GM offered two models: The Ariv Meld was an electric bike, while the Ariv Merge was the same bike with a folding mechanism.
Both bikes were made to comply with Europe's strict e-bike regulations, which meant that they had no hand throttle (like you'd find on a motorcycle) and instead were equipped with four levels of pedal assist. In further compliance with European mandates, the bikes had a top speed of 25 km/hr (about 15.5 mph). In the lowest power mode, the Ariv battery had a potential range of 64 kilometers (40 miles).
General Motors has just announced that it will cease manufacturing of Arivs. While GM blames COVID-19's effects on their bottom line for their decision, I suspect other factors were at play. One could be the price of those bikes: 2800 Euros (about 3060 USD at today's rates) for the Meld and 3400 Euros (3710 USD) for the Merge in Belgium and the Netherlands. Even if the quality of those machines were commensurate with their prices, not many people, particularly first-time buyers (who, at this point, are still most of the market) would want to spend that much. And not many delivery people, I imagine, could afford them.
Also, I imagine not many people would want to spend that much money on a bike with small wheels--unless it's a Brompton. My own amateur observation leads me to believe that there is not much "crossover" between the market for Bromptons (or, for that matter, less-expensive folding bikes like the Dahon) and the market for electric bikes.
Arivs, as far as I know, were sold only in Europe. There were plans to sell modified versions that could go 20 mph (33 kph) for the USA, but I don't know whether any such bikes were made or sold. I think, based on my amateur observation, that the bike would have needed larger-diameter wheels to succeed in America.
Anyway, GM pulling out of the e-bike market has not deterred other automotive companies, such as BMW and Skoda (a Czech automaker popular in Europe if little-known in the US) from working to develop their own electric bikes and scooters. Spanish carmaker Seat, meanwhile, has recently launched their own micromobility (the name of the category that includes e-bikes and scooters) offerings.
