A Voyageur In Astoria

Here in Astoria, as in other New York City neighborhoods, I see all sorts of re-purposed bikes locked to fences and signposts. Sometimes I wonder whether the folks who ride them have any idea of what they have.

A case in point is this World Voyageur I saw on a side street in my neighborhood.  

In the mid-1970s, Schwinn sold bikes that were manufactured for them in Japan.  Probably the best-known is the LeTour, which was basically a rebadged Panasonic Sport Deluxe and, it seemed, positioned to compete with bikes like the Peugeot UO-8 and Raleigh Grand Prix. 

The World Voyageur was a couple of steps up from the LeTour.  Both bikes had lugged frames, but the WV was constructed from double-butted chrome molybdenum tubing, in contrast to the LeTour's carbon steel.  While the LeTour's rims were steel, the WV's hoops were Araya alloy.  Both bikes had rebadged Dia Compe center-pull brakes, a standard on Japanese bikes of the time.  They also had rebadged Shimano derailleurs and hubs, though I think the ones on the WV were Titlist: at that time, Shimano's second line, behind Dura Ace.  It would form the basis of the popular 600 series Shimano would introduce a couple of years later.

Interestingly, Schwinn didn't try to rebadge the crankset:  a very nice Dura-Ace.  One reason why it didn't become more popular, I think, is that its chainring bolt circle diameter pattern, now called BCD or PCD, differed from Campagnolo's or other popular European cranksets of the time.  Ironically, Dura Ace's BCD--130 millimeters--would become the de facto standard for road cranksets a decade later.

What made me wonder whether the owner of this bike has any idea of what he or she has are the handlebars and stem.  My guess is whoever rides that World Voyageur inherited it from someone or bought it from someone who didn't know what they were selling.

My guess is that the bike in the photos is from 1973, as that seems to be the only year in which the World Voyageur was offered in that shade of blue.

What You Need To Hydrate Properly

Paris in January is neither hot nor dry (at least, not yet). Even so, when pedaling down the boulevards, avenues and pistes cycleables of the City of Light on misty day, it's just as important to hydrate as it is if you're barreling down an Arizona canyon in summertime.

But drinking like a proper French person is not just a matter of choosing jus, eau, vin, cafe or some other libation. The proprietor of La New Cave, on Boulevard Malesherbes in Paris' fashionable 8eme Arrondissement, understands that one must also consider the spirit (pun intended) in which the beverage is presented:

I asked the proprietor whether there was a "frais supplementaire" for his charming accent,  to which he replied a resounding "Non!"  So, some of the best things in life are free after all!

If I Were A Museum Director...

 Every museum should have bicycle parking facilities--preferably indoors, with a valet.

The Metropolitan Museum in New York offered it briefly, thanks to a collaboration with Transportation Alternatives, when it re-opened after its pandemic-induced closure.  I was reminded of that during my latest Paris trip, when I went museum-hopping on the bikes I borrowed and rented.

In nine days, I visited the Rodin, Picasso, Modern Art (twice), Jacquemart-Andre and Orsay Museums. Sidewalk or curbside bike racks stood just outside all of them, secluded from the traffic.  Also, there were Velib ports near all of them.  So, in Paris it is easier than it is in New York to bike from museum to museum, without having to worry about whether your bike will be where you parked it after spending a couple or a few hours looking at paintings and sculptures.  Still, I would love to see indoor facilities--and even more encouragement of, not only cycling in general (which Paris' current mayor seems to be doing plenty of) but of riding to museums and other cultural sites.

"The Scream" isn't Edvard Munch's only painting.

I mean, for me, there is nothing like taking in the colors and forms, and the ideas and feelings they convey, after a ride along city streets.  The people, buildings and streets I see, almost kaleidoscopically, put me in a mind and mood about how artists see the subjects of their work and transform them into transmissible visions. 

Perhaps it has to do with the blood that pumps into my brain as much as the sensory stimuli I experience while riding.  That might also be the reason why I can go into "old favorite" museums like the Rodin or New York's Guggenheim, or newer favorites like the Jacquemart-Andre,  and feel as if I am, not only re-connecting, but re-discovering.

Lady Macbeth, by Fussli

Now, in the Jacquemart- Andre, I sauntered through a special exhibit of Johan Heinrich Fussli, an artist I knew peripherally through his connections with the London literary and theatre worlds of the 18th Century.  But its permanent exhibit, like the one in the Rodin, also felt fresh. So did seeing the more as well as the less famous Edvard Munch works in a special exhibit at the Orsay:  Even the "Scream" resonated for me, as did the works of Oskar Kokoschka in a Modern Art special exhibit.

Oskar Kokoschka, self-portrait

If I were a museum director, I would make bike riding a requirement for entrance.  Or, at least, I would offer a discounted admission price. (I can't exclude people who can't ride, after all!)  On second thought, if I had my way, all museums would be free.  It would be the only policy that would be fair to everybody, wouldn't it? 

That I think that way is probably one reason why I never could be a museum director:  They have to raise money somehow.  But perhaps one will listen to me when I say that cyclists make the best museum visitors.  Really, we do.