Hadrian on a Bicycle

I overheard some of the riders this past Wednesday night talking about ways we might get more folks riding and the obstacles that frequently stand in the way. One felt that most new riders (or people who don’t ride but who might be inclined to do so if invited) only want to ride bike paths. Is this true? If so, why? Or, to put it differently, what keeps you either off the roads or off your bicycle altogether? More importantly, what can we do about it? How can we alleviate the concern?

Is it only a matter of educating would-be and novice riders? Is it a matter of educating the public, and particularly drivers? Is it a matter of generating a critical mass, of of riding as often as possible in pairs or in larger groups, both for the sake of our fellow riders and to raise awareness among those who do not ride a bicycle? Do we need to advocate for safer streets and “complete streets”? Or do we, in fact, really need to add miles and miles of bike paths, i.e., to build an alternative network solely for bicycle transportation?

Or is it something else? For instance, does the city need more bike racks? Do places like the YMCA, local colleges, and perhaps local bike shops need to be persuaded to offer bike hub services (e.g., anything from free air pumps, to covered bike racks, to personal and/or bicycle lockers, to showers)? Do we need things in place to make bike safety more affordable and more readily available ?Do we need bicycle co-ops that will get old bikes back on the road and help keep them running for next to nothing, while teaching riders basic bike maintenance in the process?

Are would-be and novice riders mystified by what are actually relatively basic issues like, how do I begin? Where do I ride? What route should I take? Do I have the right equipment? What do I do if my bike breaks down? Is there trepidation stemming from the newness of it all and not yet being comfortable and in the groove of riding? Or is there an intimidation factor, either in terms of thinking you haven’t got the right bike or gear to be “legit,” or else from the feeling that you’ll be a poseur if you can’t commute every single day, you ride slower than everyone else, or you can’t ride as far as others?

All of this is being pulled from the slowly-balding top of my noggin. It feels as if this list could go on indefinitely. I am really interested in hearing what others think, especially concerning the “what do we do about it” part of the question. Although traffic on this blog is decent enough, comments are few and far between. If you’re reading this, please consider chiming in, especially if your remarks refer specifically to Adrian and its environs. Of course it occurs to me as I write that pretty much anyone who might be inclined to visit this blog would be numbered among the already convinced, the proverbial choir, as it were, and therefore not necessarily the best candidates to answer the questions I’ve posed.

I had planned to take another long ride today, but the best I got was a quick trip downtown to the local farmers’ market with my daughter in the carrier, complaining most of the way to and from. I’ve held out hope all day that I might find another opportunity to break away. But now it’s nearly 6p. Baths and bedtimes are on the horizon. And a gorgeous, sunny (albeit rather windy), 85-degree spring day is fading from view, as my poor bike sits in the corner, to my deep chagrin. Oh, for shame.

Fortunately, tomorrow’s another day, and a combined bike ride/family outing is already on the docket. I’ll ride about 25 or 30 miles out to Young’s Dairy, where I’ll meet the family for ice cream before we all return home the way we came.

It’s been nearly two weeks since my last post, and now, hoping I still have a reader or two out there somewhere, I’m back … with a long, deep sigh of relief. Here’s why:

Yesterday, I mailed the final drafts of my dissertation to my committee. I defend in about two-and-a-half weeks. After that, clean it up, make whatever revisions they request, and submit the final product by the first of May. I can’t believe it’s finished. Over. I’m done. Wow.

To celebrate, I…

+ rode my bike to FedEx;

+ went on a date with my wife for the first time in what seems like forever;

+ reintroduced myself to my children (turns out a new one showed up not too long ago);

+ bought beer;

+ began surfing craigslist and ebay in earnest for another bike project (I think I want to build-up a single-speed with drop bars on a stylish frame that’s worth powder-coating and then dressing exceptional well); and

+ picked up a copy of the first issue of a brand new magazine being published by Dirt Rag called Bicycle Times, which is devoted entirely to everyday cycling. How surprised I was to find this on the shelves at my local independent bookseller! (They actually carry quite a fine selection of bike mags, including a couple of “imports” from across the pond.) I’ve flipped through it quickly, but I’m resisting the urge to read it cover-to-cover until I board the plane for the return trip my defense.

This coming week, I’m riding my bicycle every single day. It’s been a long time coming, and I’m really excited about getting back to the road and to the blog.

As concerns the latter, I’ve been brainstorming a bit, in the wee hours of the night when I just didn’t have it me to type another word but I was too worked up to sleep. With a little luck, some of what came to mind will be taking shape in the coming months … you know, now that I have all this free time on my hands.

Two days ago, the tire on our car went flat. The nature of the flat was such that the tire could not be patched, so I had to replace it with a new one. It cost $125. Unlike bicycles, cars almost always require you to replace two tires at a time, even if it means ridding yourself of a perfectly good tire in the process. So the two tires together cost $250, plus tax, disposal fees, etc. As is commonly the case, the car’s spare tire is not full-size, which means I couldn’t keep the better of the two tires I was replacing to use as the spare. If that weren’t enough, the battery on the truck I drive less than once-a-month is also shot. Replacing that will be another $100, plus tax and all the rest. So in the space of a few hours, I’m out $350, and I don’t really have much to show for it. Anyone reading this knows very well how far that same amount of money would go were it spent on bicycle-related merchandise (e.g., nearly 100 tubes, or roughly 15 tires, or about 35 chains, or enough Teflon lube to last more than 30 years).

I’ve wanted for some time now to get rid of the truck (even before I got back into bicycling, but even more so now). Part of what’s been keeping us from doing so is that it’s paid for and it isn’t costing us much (on the surface) to own it. The argument, in part, is this: what if, after we move, we realize we actually do need two vehicles? Won’t it cost us far more to replace it?

On one hand, I can certainly see the logic in this. On the other hand, I am constantly questioning when something is a legitimate (and smart) reason versus when something is an excuse, a rationalization, or even a pretense to keep doing what you’ve grown accustomed to doing. I read once that we don’t all have to ride bicycles or buy hybrid vehicles; we just need to drive the vehicles we have less. There is a lot of truth in that, to be sure. But the question is not whether I’m doing better or more than the next guy, but whether or to what extent I’m doing what I can and should be doing. It seems that there is something to be said for forcing one’s own hand. In other words, selling the truck relieves me of the option to drive it. That idea appeals to me greatly. But then I often have a tendency to be naive, idealistic, and romantic. I have a penchant for getting carried away a bit too quickly with ideas. It’s funny; I have a hard time pulling the trigger on something like this. But if a tree suddenly fell on the truck, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, and I certainly wouldn’t replace it.

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Today: currently 15-degrees with a high of 28-degrees in the forecast. Nearly a foot of snow on the ground, and the residential streets in my neighborhood have not been cleared. But the sun is shining brilliantly. I rode my bicycle to the local drugstore for shoe strings. I had to walk my bike up the hill next to my house because my tires couldn’t get traction.

First, an update on Hannah and her resurrected Schwinn Hollywood. I wrote her dad to make sure everything was all right with the bike once he got it home, and to see how his daughter liked it. Here’s his reply: “She likes it but she is waiting for the chain guard [ed. note: the original chain guard was missing, so he found a replacement on eBay] before she rides it. She has been taking pics of it and emailing her friends. She really loves that bike.” How cool is that? A fourteen-year-old girl showing off pictures of her forty-year-old bike o her friends. Nice. My day is off to a good start.

Picking up on my remarks a few days ago about recycling tires and tubes (an idea I was surprised to see solicit no comments — hint, hint), the March issue of Bicycling features a sidebar on recycling your old tubes. Their suggestions include using worn tubes as a frame protector, patch material, custom-sized rubber bands, and more. To these I would add at least one more: rim strips in particular are an excellent source for shims, which you can use when mounting lights, reflectors, etc. to your bike. What do you do with your tires and tubes when you replace them?

The fifth annual Handmade Bicycle Show is slated for February 27 — March 1 in Indianapolis. Hmmm, I wonder if I can make it? Is anyone reading this planning to attend? Has anyone here attended in the past? This year’s show is highlighting the work of the “Original Six,” those who have had their creations on display every year since the show began. Follow the link to learn more about these guys and to find links to their own websites where you can see their art. Commemorative postcards and posters are available for those of you looking to dress up your correspondence, or decorate your new digs. What lip-bitingly beautiful bikes. They give my old Schwinn low self-esteem. In a similar vein, the Ann Arbor Classic Bike Show is the largest vintage bike show in the US, and will be held on April 26th. Pray God I’m in Michigan by then.

I’m having trouble figuring out what to write about these days. Of course, the fact that I feel so compelled to post something is troublesome enough. Why not just remain quiet? But the reason I’m having difficulty is three-fold: first, I’m not riding much on account of the weather and having nowhere I need to go (contrary to popular opinion, working from home definitely has its drawbacks); second, my head is locked into another major writing project which in turn leaves me with barely enough material and energy to make small talk, let alone to craft a post worth reading; and third, I feel like there are all these unfinished conversations lingering on my old blog, which is still being locked and detained by Google. All I want is to have my access restored long enough to import all my old posts to the new site, because it has occurred to me that the most frustrating thing about starting over like this is that there are so many loose threads that I cannot refer back to. Combined, these things have cost me a lot of momentum.

In bike-related news, our PALM application and registration fees are in the hands of the good folks at LMB, and a family-sized tent is on order. Lists of questions, lists of logistical matters to think about, and lists of things to pack are all underway. Our first real family adventure is on the horizon, even as the biggest snowfall of the season piles up outside my window.

Did anyone see this bit about the bicycle-powered washing machine? I was really hoping there would be at least a picture, perhaps even a video showing it in action. Alas, we must rely on our imaginations. Of late, I’m becoming increasingly interested in programs and initiatives that look to bicycles to help people and improve lives and circumstances in ways other than fitness and recreation. I’ve read about bike-sharing and bike recycling programs for the homeless. World Bicycle Relief led foremost by Trek and SRAM, and BikeTown Africa led foremost by Kona and Bicycling magazine, are two amazing programs that are actually helping people secure clean water , medicine, health care, and even income, thanks to bicycles. The bici cooperative, and the broader bike!bike! movement of which it’s a part, are focused on establishing community bike shops that help ordinary folks keep their bikes on the road in a spirit of cooperation and fair exchange. This is really great stuff. More and more of it seems to surface all the time. I get fired up reading about it. Among other things, efforts like these epitomize bicycling as the signature of a certain worldview. I find something tremendously rich in that.

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Follow up: Here’s a nice little piece in The Chicago Tribune on SRAM’s World Bicycle Relief published January 29. Fancy that.

This is the phrase my daughter is now in the habit of saying as she colors, sculpts play-dough, etc.  She always looks and sounds so proud. I’m appropriating it for this post, because I’m feeling pretty good about a small project I just completed.

About three weeks ago, I found an ad on the local craigslist looking for someone to restore an old bicycle. The guy had found a 1968 Schwinn Hollywood. His 14-year-old daughter fell madly in love with it, and asked him to fix it up for her so she could ride it. After a handful of email exchanges, I was able to convince him to let me do the job.

As the “before” picture illustrates, the bike needed some work. (I love that he brought it to me with the vines still tangled up in the rear hub!) The paint was in surprisingly good shape, but there was lots of rust (fairly thick in areas), and all its internal organs were gummed up, dried out, and in some cases also rusted.

I disassembled the bike and cleaned the frame. He didn’t want it repainted, which I think was a good call. I then proceeded to overhaul everything as I reassembled the bicycle. I cleaned, re-greased, reassembled, and properly adjusted the headset, the front and rear wheel hubs, and the crank and bottom bracket. I installed a new chain and added some reflectors. Along the way, I used a wire brush, steel wool, and an assortment of polishes to shine up everything as best as I possibly could (within reason).

The guy picked it up yesterday and seemed very pleased. The last time he had come by to take a look, he brought his daughter with him. She was grinning ear to ear the entire time she was here. Apparently, he hadn’t told her that he’d hired someone to fix it up.

I made $100 off the job, plus got to keep what was left of the supplies I purchased (i.e., degreaser, grease, lube). I could, and should, have charged a little more. I likely will if/when I do something like this again. (I could really see myself doing this sort of thing on a regular basis for a little income on the side.) But aside from the extra cash, there is just something so unbelievably fulfilling about working on these old bikes.

I totally dig so many of the new, retro-fashioned bicycles that are becoming increasingly available, particularly the utility- and city-bikes  finding their way here from Europe and elsewhere. These are gorgeous, stylish bikes with fantastic “modern bike” components and upgrades; no doubt about it. I love them, and would be very keen on owning something along these lines myself someday. Meanwhile, however, 70s- and 80s-era Schwinns and the like can be found and put back on the road for next to nothing. And in doing so, the rider takes her or his commitment to sustainability one step further.

I stumbled onto the following via a post on letsgorideabike:

At the core of Halcyon Bike are recycled and restored custom used bikes. Every year, Americans throw away perfectly good bicycles and spend thousands of dollars on new bicycles. At Halcyon Bike, we find these thrown out bikes, restore and customize them, and sell them to you at a fraction of the price of most new bikes.

Bully for the crew at Halcyon. What a terrific idea. I realize there are other shops like this that have been doing this sort of thing for a while, but it’s exciting to see more folks giving it a go.

I have a 1973 Schwinn Suburban I picked up for $40 last fall together with a Jandd handlebar bag. (That means the bike itself probably cost $10 or $15.)  I’ve been wrenching on it now and then for months. I got so fired up after finishing the Hollywood and flipping through the pictures on Halcyon’s website that I spent all afternoon in the basement working on it so it would be finished and ready to ride. All that’s left is to paint and install the fenders and chain guard. Stay tuned for some shots of that project in the very near future.

I have a new found respect for mountain bikers and cyclecross riders. I spent over an hour today cleaning my bike after having ridden it for a couple of hours through scattered patches of melting ice, snow, and slush. And after all that, I still see areas I missed.

To be sure, this undertaking was motivated in part by my own silly obsession with wanting my bike to look pretty. But it also has to do with proper maintenance, keeping everything in good running order for as long as possible. So it’s something that just has to be done, and all the more so after riding through nastiness. So hats off to those girls and boys that get their bikes cruddy on a regular basis, even on the nicest of days. Because they have to go through this cleaning ritual all the time. That’s just nuts.

Wright Cycle Company Building

Yesterday, I took advantage of warmer weather to get in the second of the three rides I pledged to take this week. I ran errands to the library (to pick up two bicycle-related books, no less — more on that in a later post), the Post Office, and FedEx. On the way home, I stopped by a local landmark to pay proper homage to one of many places where these sexy two-wheeled machines of ours began coming into their own: The Wright Cycle Company building. Time didn’t permit me to tour the small museum (which happens to be adjacent to much larger museum and learning center celebrating what the brothers are perhaps better known for: flying), but it’s something I’d like to be sure to do in the near future, before I move out of the area. There seems to be a certain pilgrimage-like dimension to it, I think. Given how ecstatic my daughter is about bicycles, I bet it would be lots of fun to take her along. She’ll flip.

I thought it was especially clever that, anticipating visitors on bikes, the museum had set up a particularly appropriate and creative set of bike racks.

Today, the warm up continued with temps in the mid-40s and plenty of sunshine. I capitalized on it accordingly, especially with the forecast showing another big chill tomorrow. I rode roughly 40 miles on the local bike paths. The route was clear for the most part, but there were still a number of patches where the snow had not fully melted. That, coupled with lots of runoff elsewhere, made for a very messy ride. I’ll be spending tomorrow morning cleaning my bike. Not only did this wintry residue create some, shall we say, adventurous riding conditions (i.e., taking my bike in directions other than where the handlebar was pointing it), but it also contributed directly to the one problem I had as far as the cold was concerned. The spray off my front wheel absolutely soaked my shoes and socks in virtually no time at all, which left my feet feeling painfully cold and numb long before the ride was over. Aside from that, it was a beautiful, wonderful ride that left me in a very happy frame of mind (albeit trapped in a body that is a little sore and weary — I still have a long way to go before I’m ready to ride a tour). I am so grateful.

Speaking of tours, my application for the League of Michigan Bicyclists PALM (Pedal Across Lower Michigan) tour arrived in today’s mail. Our family is planning to participate. (A post on my hijacked blog had mentioned this. Stay tuned for updates as we prepare for this adventure.)

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A couple of days ago, I changed out the rear tire on my bike. I managed to put at least three holes in the tube doing so. (For what it’s worth, these are narrow, 120p.s.i. tires on a road bike. I haven’t had this trouble with the tires and tubes on my commuter.) Cheapskate that I am, I actually attempted to patch all three holes, thinking that $1.50 in patches was more economical than the four or five bucks I’d spend on a new tube. More importantly, (1) I had nothing better to do (not true); (2) I saw it as good practice; and (3) I’m never excited about the prospect of throwing rubber in a landfill (and sincerely regret the number of occasions I’ve done so). Alas, either one or more of my patches didn’t hold, or else I managed to pinch the tube again while reinstalling. So today, before taking my ride, I had to put in a new tube.

That got me thinking. I wonder if there are any bicycle shops that offer tire and tube recycling programs for local riders. Just offering riders a place to responsibly dispose of these materials would be good in its own right. (If nothing else, the shop owners get more folks in their shop, folks who are sure to pick up a little something while dropping off their discarded tires and tubes, even if only another tire and tube.) But it would be even better if shops could afford to offer some kind of discount to encourage people to bring them in. One way to do it, so that shop owners aren’t left footing the bill for something we should all be doing (happily), would be to put a small surcharge on tires and tubes, which you essentially get back upon turning them in for recycling. It would be difficult for individual shops to do this. Any shop opting not to participate would, as a matter of course, be undercutting those who did by selling tires and tubes for less. So I wonder if this is something bicycle tire and tube manufacturers could get behind. Auto parts stores and garages do this with car batteries. How much more would such an effort suit the lives of us velofolk? What do you think?

My original blog, “The Adrian Spokesman,” was hijacked and detained by Google spam-prevention robot fascists on 19 January 2009. Despite publishing original (if at times uninspired) content since September 2008, the blog was suddenly auto-flagged as a potential spam blog. I was completely locked out of the blog, and provided with no means whatsoever for contacting Google directly to plead my case. The “your blog is disabled” page that appeared every time I requested my access be restored repeatedly offered me this assurance: “Since you’re an actual person reading this, your blog is probably not a spam blog. Automated spam detection is inherently fuzzy, and we sincerely apologize for this false positive.” And I was told, ever so condescendingly, “On behalf of the robots, we apologize for locking your non-spam blog. Please be patient while we take a look at your blog and verify that it is not spam.”  I’m still waiting.

I’ve spent the last few days aggravated, outraged, and frustrated. (It’s funny, I think, and a little unsettling, to see myself so upset over something like this. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. But reflections on that will have to wait until another time, and perhaps even an altogether different venue.) Finally, I decided to it was time to kick the dust off my cleats and ride on elsewhere. Enter WordPress and witness the arrival of “Hadrian on a Bicycle.”

It’s always tough starting over, no matter how small a thing is. I was just beginning to build a small readership, which I’ll now have go in search of again. But I’m excited. I’ve got better ideas about what it is I want to do here. Some of that clarity comes as a result of gaining an increasingly better sense of who I am as a cyclist.

Hopefully, Google will eventually see fit to release my former blog from exile, at which point I will import the majority of my previously-published posts and thus imbue them with new life. Meanwhile, lessons learned, I’ll compose my posts in a savable file.

So, without further ado, let’s consider the flat patched and get back on the bike.