The Larz Anderson Bicycle Show!

Today was the 14th Annual Larz Anderson Grand National Bicycle Super Meet in Brookline, Massachusetts and I am pleased to report that I was able to attend.

I intended to take documentary-style photographs of the show... But that did not work out so well, as it was just too crowded with too much going on! Nonetheless, here are some shots of bicycles that I especially enjoyed and you might too.

Having seen pictures from previous years, I expected the Larz Anderson show to be full of antique roadster-style bicycle, but this year there were only a few. This one is an Elgin loop frame.

Wooden fenders, wooden chainguard and netted dressguards on another loop frame!

And dramatic upside-down North Road handlebars (or are they track dropbars? a hybrid of the two?) on a Sterling roadster.

A Columbia truss bridge bicycle!

I examined it up close, and it is definitely welded, not lugged - though I am not sure whether this was true of all early truss frames.

A Dunelt Roadster with baby chariot. These look so much nicer than the modern Co-Pilots! But are they road legal?

An unusual Concord mixte in a beautiful shade of slate blue.

The lugwork on this one was gorgeous and it was in exactly my size. What strength of will I have!

I was told that Concord was a Dutch manufacturer [edited to add: looked it up on bikeforums, and it is actually Japanese].

 Could that explain the atypical spelling of "mixte"?

And how about this fully equipped Raleigh Sixteen? - a folding bicycle like the Raleigh Twenty, only with 16" wheels.

Green frame, fat cream tires and dynamo lighting! I am envious of who ever ended up taking this beauty home!

The star of the show was this enormous, forest green, original Dursley Pedersen bicycle.

Dursley Pedersen headbadge.

Crocheted saddle (or seat in this case?).

Wooden grips with inverse brake levers.

And, of course, an antique headlamp! This bicycle was truly a spectacular sight.

My personal favourite in the show, however, was this stunning bicycle from the 1960s, which belonged to the wife of Cino Cinelli. To my dismay, I was not able to get any good full-size pictures that capture its glamour to the extent it deserves, but maybe some hint of it will come across here!

Ever seen a step-through Cinelli before? This one was apparently Mrs. Cinelli's personal ride, and it is exquisitely made. I am wondering what is the history of this particular style of frame; is it specifically Italian? I have been admiring similar designs from Abici and Bella Ciao, and would love to learn about their vintage origins.

The colour is just the right mix of pink, beige and champagne to be feminine and glamorous, yet understated. The lines are curves are as graceful as can be.

One piece handlebars and stem, with cream grips.

Cinelli crest on the stem! Just stunning.

There is a "his"model as well, and these bicycles were displayed as a pair. Riding these around town must have been a sight...

In addition to the exhibiting and selling of bicycles, there was a brisk trade in components, accessories, and vintage clothing. It was enough to make my head spin. This time around, I neither brought a bicycle to exhibit (I was trying to be incognito), nor, thankfully, did I purchase a bicycle. But next year perhaps I will plan things better and spruce up one of my vintage beauties for show and tell. The Larz Anderson Bicycle Show is a must if you are in the Boston area and love vintage bicycles.

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Cycling and Suffering

In my view, the most unfortunate myth about cycling for transportation is that it is difficult. Understandably, this is how non-cyclists often perceive it - due to the overabundance of athletic cyclists and heavily armoured utility cyclists on the roads in comparison to cyclists who look like regular people. But even among the "everyday cyclists",  I feel that there is a tendency to focus on the challenging aspects of riding a bike in a way that takes pride in these challenges and thereby dwells on them: the pain of cycling uphill, the heroics of cycling in cold weather, the battle of cycling in traffic... Come on, be fair! Cycling is fun and convenient, giving us the most independence and flexibility of all other transport options. Compared to the poor drivers stuck in traffic and the users of public transport pushing their ways through overcrowded buses, we coast through life with smiles on our faces.

[image via BostonBiker.org]

Reading Boston Biker this week, I was reminded of my all time favourite misrepresentation of cycling's "difficulties": Our love of exaggerating the fortitude of cycling in the rain. On cycling blogs, we often read stories that describe a non-cyclist asking a cyclist, "But what do you do when it rains?" and the cyclist replying "I get wet!" After this exchange is retold in the blog post, the author will then muse about how people nowadays are out of touch with the elements, and how ridiculous it is that "the car culture" has taught us to fear getting rained on. This, however, is simply untrue. Car culture did not teach us to dislike getting rained on. Seeking protection from the elements is a natural impulse that has been with us pretty much forever. In non-car-oriented societies people still use umbrellas and hide under awnings. Cave people sought shelter in caves. It is completely normal not to want to get rained on on the way to work or a date, so that we can both arrive in dignity and not come down with the flu the next day.

[image via BostonBiker.org]

Cyclists however, sometimes seem to experience pride from getting soaking wet in the rain, and this pride translates into projecting an intimidating image to those who do not ride a bike. The non-cyclist is given to understand, that in order to embrace cycling they must accept the idea that getting wet is "normal" rather than something to be avoided... In other words, to accept an idea that goes against people's natural instincts since the dawn of civilization.

I don't know about you. But when a non-cyclist asks me what I do when it rains, I reply that I wear a raincoat. When a non-cyclist asks me about hills, I explain that I switch to a lower gear and pedaling gets easy again. And when a non-cyclist asks me whether I am scared of traffic, I point out that it was less scary than driving once I got used to it. And all of these things are true. Why tell them I am suffering, when I am not?

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Dressguards and Chaincase: Do You Need Them?

Sometimes I get emails where ladies send me pictures of their bicycle and ask whether I think "it would look better" with dress guards and/or a chaincase.  Ladies... You do realise that these things are not there for the looks, right? Although a set of dress guards and a chaincase do lend a certain charm to a bicycle, aesthetics are not their primary purpose. So let me explain why I put them on my bikes, and then you can decide for yourself whether you need them or not.

The purpose of dress guards is to stop fluttery, loose clothing from flying into the spokes of your rear wheel and either getting ruined or causing an accident. The main determinant of whether you need dressguards is whether you wear the sort of clothing that requires their protection - for instance: flared skirts, dresses, long coats, or flowing tunics. Once you have had something get stuck in your rear spokes or have seen it happen to someone else, you know that the possibility is real and that it can even cause injury. Personally, I will not ride a bicycle without dress guards if an article of clothing I am wearing is long enough to reach the rear spokes. And since much of my everyday clothing is in that category, it is a good idea for me to install dress guards on any bike I plan to use for transportation.

I have also been asked what kind of dressguards are better: netted or solid.  There are probably differing opinions on this, but in my experience it does not matter. My vintage Raleigh (above) is fitted with very minimal dressguards that are basically just stretchy cords fanning out from the rear dropouts. For me, this has been sufficient; the cords - closely spaced - provide a perfectly functional barrier.  The obvious advantage to dress guards that are woven, is that they are lighter (and usually more attractive) than plastic ones. The disadvantage is that they can be more expensive and more difficult to clean.

Moving on to chaincases, their purpose is two-fold: (1) to prevent the bottoms of your trousers from being caught in the chain, and (2) to keep the chain clean from street grime, especially in bad weather. Since I seldom wear long trousers, the first function is not that important to me. So while I do appreciate that the chaincase keeps my chain nice and clean, this accessory is not as crucial for me as dress guards, because it is a maintenance feature rather than a safety feature. I can still ride a bike without a chaincase for transportation.

Furthermore, while I have found dress guards to be effective in preventing clothing from getting stuck in the spokes, I have not found chaincases to be entirely effective on those rare occasions when I do wear trousers. A couple of times, the bottoms of my trousers have actually gotten stuck on the chaincase itself, which has only increased my bias for skirts once I started cycling. Don't get me wrong, I still love a nice, elegant chaincase. But I admit that this feature does not hold as much functional purpose for me as do dress guards.

Dress guards and chaincases are not affectations, but necessary accessories for transportation in everyday clothing. As the popularity of "city bikes" rises, I hope that more American bicycle shops will realise this, and start carrying these useful items.

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The Voyager Princess: Two Thousand Miles on a Pashley!

[image via Katie Doncaster]

I have been wanting to feature this story for a while, and it now seems like a good counterpoint to my earlier post about long distance cycling and upright bicycles. Not everybody finds it necessary to use a bicycle with drop bars for touring - especially not Katie Doncaster, who travelled on her Pashley Princess Sovereign from Strasbourg, France to Nessebar, Bulgaria. 

[image via Katie Doncaster]

This is Katie's Pashley, named Mathilda. As you can see, she sightly modified it for touring in terms of accessories and luggage: She added extra pannier hangers, a waterbottle mount, and a handlebar bag instead of the wicker basket. But the upright sitting position of the bicycle has very much been retained.

[image via Katie Doncaster]

Katie and Mathilda travelled a total of 3,900 km (2,423 miles) together, passing through France, Germany, Austria, Serbia, Croatia, Bulgaria and Romania.

[image via Katie Doncaster]

Nights were mostly spent camping, with all the necessary equipment carried on the bike.  Much of the trip was over flat terrain, but there were a couple of spots with some hills as well.

[image via Katie Doncaster]

Katie's route took her through Austria along the Danube Bikeway, and it was neat to see some familiar places in her images. The most I have ever cycled on this route was 50 miles, which is laughable compared to the length of her trip.

[image via Katie Doncaster]

I am amazed by Katie's accomplishment - who wouldn't be!  2,423 miles on a roadbike designed for touring would have already been beyond impressive. But to cover that distance on a Pashley... I put that in the category of "jaw dropping".  Just to remind you, this is a 5-speed upright bicycle that weighs over 40lb (unloaded) and offers only one hand position on the handlebars. I would not be able to do it.  But everybody is different. If Katie did it, it's certainly possible. Only you can determine what is possible (and comfortable) for you, and you never know until you try!  Anybody planning a cycling adventure before the summer is over?

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Everybody Loves a Lovely Bicycle

Sometimes, between trying to squeeze in 30-mile rides, obsessing about components and taking close-ups for product reviews, I forget the big picture: Beautiful bicycles can lift our spirits.

These two ladies are Isha Ware and Caroline Robinson, from the neighborhood, and they reminded me of why I like bicycles in the first place.

Today I fitted my bike Marianne with a very funky new set of dressguards (from Simeli) and dragged her outside to photograph. On three separate occasions, women walking down the street stopped to ask me about the bicycle. They were clearly happy to see such a bike - eccentric and undeniably "girly", with a colourful "thingie" on the wheel, flowers on the handlebars, and a shiny bell. Isha (pictured above) was wearing an outfit that was the exact same colour as Marianne's frame, and so naturally this had to be documented.

One young woman (not pictured here) told me that she wanted to buy a bicycle, but found bike shops to be male-oriented and intimidating. I remember lots of stories like this from 1-2 years ago, but I thought that things were a lot better now. Apparently they are not completely better; at least not yet. One of my main goals for Lovely Bicycle, is that ladies who have been disappointed or intimidated by bike shops can find the information they are looking for here.

A nice bicycle can make even people who are not into bicycles at all - just people who are passing by - smile and want to pet it. The very form of a nicely designed bicycle is welcoming; the texture of its components inviting. Maybe it's a "woman thing". Or maybe it's universal. But it sure is nice. Lovely bicycles for all!

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Power Grips: Foot Retention That Even I Can Use!

[edited to add: Power Grips was a sponsor of this website September-October 2010. This review was written before that time.]

I do not like the idea of foot retention and generally feel no need for it - whether cycling for transportation or going on long rides. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that the very thought of having my feet connected to the pedals fills me with terror. The problem is, that I will soon be riding a fixed gear roadbike (Marianne's conversion was practice), for which it is advisable to use foot retention: When cycling over bumps or potholes, your feet can fly off the pedals on a fixed gear bike and the pedals can then "chew up your ankles" before you have a chance to brake. So yes, foot retention is recommended.

Some have suggested I try Power Grips if I am too nervous to use toe clips or clipless pedals. I have finally gotten up the nerve to give them a try... and so far they have been more or less a success. We installed these first on my Rivendell Sam Hillborne, so that I could get comfortable with them before putting them on the fixed gear. Here are my impressions so far.

Power Grips are basically straps made of a thick, stiff woven fabric, that mount diagonally on the pedals. It is easy to slide your foot in and out, but the diagonal position grips the foot firmly in place once it is all the way in. Note that we mounted these with the logo on the inside. There is also a beige version with an argyle pattern accompanying the logo.

Even as I write this, it sounds implausible that something can both "grip the foot firmly" and "be easy to slide in and out of," but that is the feeling.  Because the band is diagonal, there is a large escape area as soon as you move your foot back a bit. You can also feel the grip getting tighter/looser as you shift your foot forward or backward on the pedal, so there is a natural bodily awareness of the system that works in your favour.  When approaching a stop, I simply slide one foot off the pedal and step down on the ground. Initially I would remove the second foot at stops as well, but eventually I discovered that it was easier to just keep it inside the grip.

I am not qualified to say how effective the Power Grips are in terms of pedaling efficiency; I simply would not know. It feels as if with the grips I can pedal with more power, but it may very well be an illusion. However, none of that is important to me, and what really matters is safety. The Power Grips keep my feet firmly in place when going over bumps, yet are easy to get out of whenever I need to.

I should mention also that the straps come in several sizes, and are adjustable to fit over different types of footwear. They do not squeeze or rub the top of the foot, so I am pretty sure you could wear them even with sandals. 

Another nice thing about the Power Grips, is that if you want to pedal without them, you can easily use the other side of the pedal.  I do not feel comfortable yet wearing the grips in stop-and-go traffic, so when the traffic gets dense I simply cycle with them upside down and my feet are free. The straps do not hang low enough to scrape against the ground. And even if there is an occasional scrape, it is soft and silent (whereas toe clips make screeching, clunking noises).

Some complain that Power Grips don't look attractive on a bike, but I think they are fine: it is just a strap attached to the pedal. They will soon be moved from my Rivendell to my fixed gear bicycle - though I must say it is tempting to keep them here, too. Unless riding in traffic, it actually feels nice to have my feet in the straps, especially when pedaling fast or going over bumps.

I cannot overstate how scared I am of foot retention: I have tried clips and half clips, and was unable to use them. Power Grips seem easier and safer to me than either of these systems. They are also by far more effective than half-clips or loose toe clips. 

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Cycling and Comfort: When Does It Hurt?

Small confession: For the past couple of days, I have been using my road bike for transportation. Not out of choice, but out of necessity - I can't spend more than 2 minutes on any of my upright or semi-upright bicycles right now without pain.

In my excitement about Marianne's conversion, I took her on her longest ride yet as a fixed gear - 28 miles. For the first 20 miles, everything was fine. The bike's geometry has never been the most comfortable, but as a fixed gear it felt better than ever and I was pedaling happily. But then, with just 8 miles to go, I suddenly became aware of a rapidly growing discomfort - not just in one area, but in several: in my shoulders, arms, back, pelvis, joints - pain seemed to be everywhere and it attacked me all at once. By the time I got home, I felt as if I had been run over by a train. I took some Ibuprofen and expected it would go away in the morning. But when I tried to ride my vintage Raleigh the next day, I felt the same pain immediately and barely managed to cycle to my destination a mere mile from home.

Mysteriously, I can still ride my roadbike with zero of the pain I experience on the upright bikes. Somehow being in the drop-bar position on the comfortable Rivendell does not activate any of the same discomfort. So, I am now in the ironic situation where I can go for 35 mile rides on a roadbike, but can't cycle for even a couple of miles on any of my city bicycles. Argh!

My working hypothesis of what happened is that while riding Marianne, my legs grew tired of the fixed gear pedaling, and without realising it I began to put more stress on my arms, hands, butt, and everything else. And because the mixte is semi-upright, this damaged some joints in a way that the pain only shows up in the upright position, but not in a leaned-over position. Does that make any sense as a possibility?

But this particular situation aside, I have been thinking a lot lately about comfort, and, more specifically, about when it is appropriate to declare that a bicycle is "comfortable".  Had I limited my rides on Marianne to 20 miles at a time or less, I would have thought she was perfectly comfortable. I could have ridden her this way for years, thinking that I had a comfortable bike - but I would have been wrong. And that is why it is so difficult to determine a bicycle's comfort based on the sort of test rides you take at the bike shop, or even short rides on your own. Bicycle A might feel better than Bicycle B after a short spin, but how will they compare after mile 20? mile 50? mile 100? You just do not know, until you actually ride the bicycle for that distance.

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