An Eagle Lands At A Repair Station

As a transgender woman, it's ironic for me to say that I was once an altar boy--or Boy Scout. Today, they are known as "altar servers" and "Scouts."  But in my time, those positions, if you will, were open only to the young of the male gender.

Anyway, while I enjoyed some aspects of Scouting--which included the opportunity to earn merit badges for bicycling and reading, two things I have always loved to do-- I got distracted, if you will,  and therefore never attained its highest distinction:  Eagle Scout. However, Mason Tiller of Gulf Breeze, Florida recently achieved that milestone.

One requirement for attaining Scouting's highest rank is a community service project.  Tiller came up with something I wish I could've thought of:  building a bicycle repair station.  To do that, of course, he needed to find a spot, the necessary equipment--and funding, which he solicited from local businesses and individuals.

Whatever else one might think of Scouting, I think it's great that the definition of "community project" has expanded and that the role of bicycling doesn't begin and end with earning a merit badge. 

Note:  The article I linked has a paywall.  I wrote as much as I could about Mason Tiller, who deserves recognition for his efforts, as I could glean from searches.

These Bikes Could Emancipate Them, Too.

Yesterday was International Women's Day.  I'll repeat one of her most famous quotes:  "Let me tell you what I think of bicycling.  I think it has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world."

Now I'll tell you what I think. Bicycling can do more to emancipate people than almost anything I can think of. People who use their feet to spin bike pedals rather than to pump gas pedals can free themselves from the costs--financial, physical and mental-health-wise and environmental--of excessive automobile dependency.

Also, I feel that cycling can change a person's outlook in other ways.  Though there's always that group of cyclists who's obsessed with having the newest and latest gear (I was once one of them!), I find that cyclists are, on the whole, more conscious of how and what they consume and less status-conscious than other people.  And, I like to believe, we are more socially conscious.

At least, we try to be. Like all people, we have our blind spots, individually and as a community.  One of those areas, I believe, is people with disabilities.  Sure, we can volunteer to take blind or deaf people on tandem rides or lead rides for those who have mild- to- moderate cognitive disabilities. (I am using terminology as I understand it.  If you are a professional in those areas, or simply more knowledgable than I am, please feel free to point out any inaccuracies.)  But, on the whole, cycling isn't very accessible to those who have impairments of one kind or another.

Among them are a group of people that, I blush to admit, I very rarely think about:  those who live with dwarfism. (I only recently learned that some consider it derogatory to call such people "dwarves."  Every now and again, a person with dwarfism will try a kid's bike and find it very unsatisfying.  I can't blame them:  Most kids' bikes aren't made to be responsive and, frankly, too often look cartoonish.  

Another, more important, reason why child-sized bikes don't work for adults with dwarfism is that they aren't built like children or scaled-down versions of average-sized adults.  For example, people with disproportionate dwarfism, or achondroplasia, have torsos similar in size to people without the condition, but shorter arms and legs.  So, while a child-sized bike might provide them with the proper seat height, if they ride it, they will be as cramped as if they were stuffed into a car trunk.

Designing a bike for a person with dwarfism is therefore difficult because, "You can't just lop bits off," says Steve Scott of  the Dwarf Sports Association.  That is what his father did for him mainly because there weren't any better alternatives.  His father motivated him to stay in the sport, but too many other people with dwarfism abandon it or never take it up in the first place because of the difficulties in getting bikes to fit, among other things.

Islabike Joni24

So Scott collaborated with Islabikes of the UK.  After several years of work, they've come up with the Joni 20 and 24 for adults and the Cnoc 14 and 16 for kids.  The numbers in each model name refer to the tire size, and the frames are proportionately sized.  The Joni is a 7-speed with a SRAM rear derailleur and trigger shifter; the Cnoc is a single-speed (freewheel) with a fully-enclosed chainguard.  In addition to their specially-designed frames, both bikes also have brake "micro levers" as well as cranks specially made in shorter lengths.

Islabike Cnoc 16

At the moment, the bikes are being sold only in the UK and for delivery in Europe. One hopes that they, or bikes like them, will become more widely available so that people with disproportionate dwarfism, wherever they are, can be liberated as Susan B. Anthony would have women, and all people.

Stacking Up

 Around 1980, “aerodynamics” became all the rage in bicycling.  Certainly, there are advantages in shaping parts to minimize air drag for some riders, particularly time trialists.  But studies have revealed that, for the most part, the benefits of aerodynamics accrue only to cyclists riding at more than a certain speed—45 KPH, if I remember correctly.

Still, that didn’t stop bike and component manufacturers from making “aerodynamic “ bikes and parts for loaded bike touring or even “aerodynamic” versions—which looked as if they’d wandered into a vise—of Huffy and Columbia ten-speeds sold in department stores. 

Now, it seems there is a trend in the opposite direction. At least one European team is making part of its rolling stock less aerodynamic.

I’m not talking about the bikes.  Rather, a new anti-aerodynamic principle is being applied to the team cars and vans that follow riders during major races.  Typically, these vehicles carry one or two spare bikes and, perhaps, some wheels and other parts.  But, lately, some teams have been stacking five or more bikes atop those cars and vans.

The reason, apparently, is to create a slipstream for the riders ahead of them.  Not only does a taller stack, like a higher wall, blocks more wind.  But, because the vehicle is moving, it pushes air ahead of it—in the direction of the riders.

As far as anyone knows, neither the Union Cycliste Internanationale (UCI) nor any other governing body has a rule against this practice.  If the UCI were to pass such a rule, I have to wonder if it will do as much to deter bad behavior as, oh, their anti-doping rules.