Bromptons don’t have kickstands; Basil has a rear rack, instead, which supports him in a semi-recumbent position:
It was an especially quiet day at the train station, although 30th Street is rarely as crowded as Penn Station or Grand Central in New York.
My helmet (a Nutcase Watermelon) is hanging from Basil’s handlebars, along with a pair of winter lobster-claw gloves. They look a bit carbuncular here.
The second group ride I took with the Bicycle Club of Philadelphia was very different from the first. I had a great time, but it was a very different ride than what I expected, and proved the wisdom of my earlier advisors, who explained that the precise nature of a “D” ride depends on the leader more than the category. In fairness, though, this ride was rated at D, D+, C-; as it turns out, this particular version was probably a bit above my correct level, at this point. (Though, obviously, I survived!)
This ride went from the Azalea Garden to the Farmer’s Market and Trader Joe’s, in Ardmore. The leader was cheery and friendly, and so were the other cyclists. We took a break at the Farmer’s Market, which was bustling inside, but pretty generic outside –probably because it’s December, and fairly cold out. Here’s Basil, with a bunch of other bicycles, outside:
Some of us purchased lunches and ate them in a little area next to the sushi counter, somewhat to the sushi chef’s dismay, as he would have preferred the seats be left empty for his customers (though there were none at that time). He was nice about it, but it obviously bothered him. He offers a good range of choices, including several seaweed salads.
I learned some interesting things. First, although I was capable of going up short hills more rapidly than the other riders, their slow initial climbs caused me to drop back in order to avoid overtaking. I attribute this to gearing range differences. On the longest, steepest, inclines, I fell far behind. That was due, in part, to the leader having increased the speed on the return trip considerably, particularly the incline speeds. We were well out of D speed range on the return — that didn’t matter on the flats or downhills, but it did matter, for me, on the inclines.
The leader told us that there was only one hill, but, as another rider observed, that was not the case. In total, we climbed over 1,000 feet, according to my Garmin, and, no, it wasn’t all in one go!
It was a bit disconcerting that at one point I was significantly behind the others for a lengthy period of time, and the leader never once looked back. On virtually all of the return trip, we were on our own — to the extent that she went through a yellow signal on a major road, leaving us behind at the red. (Though she waited until the signal changed and the rest of us made it through before proceeding.) I was able to catch up without missing any turns, but the tension caused by the uncertainty didn’t enhance the ride any. As a D rider, and one unfamiliar with Philadelphia geography, I lack sufficient experience to find my way back, even with a cue sheet (not much experience there, either).
At the start of both rides, each leader said “We will obey all traffic laws”. In each case, that did not prove to be the case — not even close — though that wasn’t a particularly egregious issue on my first ride. It was on this one. This raises some significant philosophical issues, which I intend to address in a later post.
It was a good day, and a good ride, in spite of some worrisome moments.
Not long ago, a commenter asked about Basil’s apparently “spotless” state. I responded by noting that Basil and I have ridden in little rain, so far, and, thus, had been minimally exposed to mud. Our most serious rain this fall came with a hurricane, and neither Basil nor I were out in it.
That’s part of the answer. Also relevant is that I don’t commute on Basil, so I can pick and choose (within reason) when to ride. But there are a couple of things I do regularly that make a real difference to Basil’s appearance. Here are my weapons of choice:
an orange microfiber cleaning cloth, and a soft toothbrush. I found the orange cloths in the automotive section of some store; they’re orange so that no one will mistake them for ordinary dusting cloths, and leave Basil stranded.
After any particularly messy ride, I run the cloth gently over Basil’s wheels. If the cloth meets with any resistance, I dampen it slightly, but otherwise, a soft dusting generally removes the newly-accumulated road grime. I don’t do this every time I ride, but on as as-needed basis, which works out to be fairly frequently. It only takes a few minutes, and getting the grime off up front is a lot easier than trying to remove it months later.
I regularly wipe the sides of Basil’s wheels, too, since I’ve read that this is kinder to both rims and brake pads. This, too, takes just moments.
The cloth also gets put to work on any visible grime on Basil’s frame and components. Every three or four rides, there seems to be plenty, even if the weather’s been good. Again, this takes only moments.
Any time I’ve ridden in an “iffy” area, I brush Basil’s tires once we’re home — that’s what the toothbrush is for. Again, it just takes a few minutes, but ensures that debris doesn’t stick around.
I tend to scuff Basil’s top bar; that gets addressed with the microfiber cloth, slightly dampened, wiping gently.
So the answer to Ian’s question is multi-faceted. Basil still looks band-box new because:
Yes, Ian, I fear that item 4 may be the real answer to your question. The camera may not lie, but it might obscure.
Regardless, though, I do give Basil the little attentions he deserves; it’s not much time or effort for maximum gain. I figured that I’d better get in the habit immediately, since it was unlikely I’d develop it later.
Basil will eventually look scruffy; it’s the nature of things, and Basil is meant to be a vigorous companion, after all, not a beautiful trophy to put on a wall. But I like respecting his fit and finish along the way; it’s a good tack to take.
Amtrak, on the way to Harrisburg, PA:
Basil. standing by:
Trains and bicycles. Gotta love “alternative” transportation.
Here’s Basil, on the banks of the Schuylkill River in Philadelphia:
He’s in front of this mural, well-known to the habituées of the Amtrak Station in Philadelphia (and now, to those who use this section of the Schuylkill River Trail):
I’ve always liked this painting, perhaps against my better judgment. It creates in me a genuine cognitive dissonance: It’s a painting, on a building, of marine life, above a river, looking a great deal like a view into an aquarium tank. It’s all a bit too much — but the whales are excellent, and it’s certainly a memorable landmark.
A little while ago I wrote about the interesting [lack of] bicycle access from 30th Street Station in Philadelphia to the Schuylkill River Trail, which is across the way, but a level lower than the station. It seems that I missed something crucial.
When I asked about access to the trail at the Traveler’s Aid booth, I was directed to the stairs I’d mentioned in this post. On a subsequent visit, though, while photographing Basil, I realized that, further down the river, was a structure that looked as if it included a ramp. Or two.
There are sets of stairs, and ramps hither and yon, attached to the structure above. Below, one of the ramps:
I can only surmise that Basil’s intrinsically unobtrusive nature led the fellow at Traveler’s Aid to believe that I was simply a pedestrian, and in no need of an incline in order to make my way to the trail.
The ramps are easier to navigate than the stairs. Signs forbid riding bicycles on them, but not one cyclist I saw obeyed — though, in fairness, no cyclist I saw shared either ramp with any pedestrians, so one imagines that the injunction was perhaps not critical to the circumstances.
Basil is an M6R Brompton, meaning that he’s got the M-shaped handlebars, six speeds, and a rear rack. The rear rack is potentially for cargo, but is generally used to roll him on axillary wheels through stores and transit stations. The M-shaped handlebars are because they feel best for my hands and arms.
And the six gears are because I’m likely to do most of my everyday riding in rolling hills like these:
They don’t look like much, do they? Trust me, they’re significant, especially for the relatively novice cyclist I am.
Basil and I recently tackled this stretch for the first time. Successfully, if not speedily. In terms of hills I expect to encounter regularly, there are short, steep ones; long, less-steep ones; and long, rather steep ones. It’s the latter that require the greatest stamina.
Basil and I are on the way to conquering the long, rather steep ones. I expect it will take a while, but we’ll get there.
I’ve been eager to do longer rides in areas where it might not be prudent to ride alone, and, also, to learn to ride well in a group — which is a very different matter to heading off on one’s own. Thanks to the Bicycle Club of Philadelphia, I’ve now taken my first group ride — and had a great time, too. We met up at the entrance to the Azalea Garden, near the Water Works, and behind the Philadelphia Art Museum.
I was early, so, naturally, I photographed Basil. A small boy passed by, with his father, who pointed out Basil to the child. “See the folded bicycle?” said the dad. “That’s not a bicycle!” replied the boy. Dad said it was, and the little guy turned back and took a long look, wonderingly. If they hadn’t left quickly, I’d have proven it to him.
The leader, and two members of the club, turned up shortly, and we took off, riding partly on streets, partly on trails, along the Manayunk Canal (I didn’t even know it existed!), into Manayunk and on to Conshohocken, were we stopped for coffee before heading back.
The leader had explained beforehand how signaling would be done, what expectations were in terms of following distance, etc., and the others were also very helpful along the ride. Everyone was very positive and encouraging, and made me feel most welcome — something I especially appreciated, since I am so new to this sort of thing.
On the way we waited for a train to pass before proceeding:
The route was mostly flat, but included one long hill. We stopped at the top, and the my companions were patient enough to allow me to take a couple of pictures
I’m not sure exactly where we were — I was just thrilled to be out on my first group ride, seeing a bunch of places, and things, I’d not seen from this perspective before.
That’s the Schuylkill River, though. I did get that!
Our leader offered to take a photo of Basil and me: It was about 37 when we started out; it had been 31 when I left home. I’m wearing five layers of various types of fibers here, as I’ve not quite figured out this cold-weather- riding thing, I was warm enough, especially while actually cycling, but might have benefited from re-working the layers a bit. The trick is to somehow remain mobile while swathed.
All three men who were along for this ride are ride leaders for The Bicycle Club of Philadelphia, and the Sunday “D” ride is a regular event, led by a different volunteer each week. This ride, at this level, is a great introduction to group riding, and I was thrilled to see that the BCP is such an active group. I’ve found that many cycling clubs aren’t very accommodating to D and C class riders; it’s great to find a club that is, and has enough members to justify scheduling the events.
I was interested to learn that the leader felt that I was riding at a C- level; that was helpful to know, and a surprise. One of the other fellows cautioned me, though, to regard ride ratings with some skepticism, as speed and intensity can vary quite a bit, depending on the leader’s style and inclinations. I’m looking forward to learning these things, and more, in the months to come.
After missing the 200-mile-milestone by only 0.01 miles, I determined to photograph the missing 0.01, in order to officially establish the record. Accordingly, I set my Garmin, rode the requisite distance, and stopped.
When I swung Basil’s rear wheel under to stabilize him for the picture, the Garmin flipped to 0.02.
Sigh. I took the picture anyway. My first two hundred miles on Basil! And then I rode another 30.
I’ve mentioned the small plastic cap that Bromptons ship in this post: It goes over one of the front wheel nuts, and helps to protect the bike’s finish when folded. Mine developed a crack almost immediately after Basil arrived. Perhaps that wasn’t surprising; this particular fitting may never have been intended to remain on a Brompton, once unpacked and in use.
Once the crack enlarged, and before the cap could fall off, I removed it and took off for the hardware stores. In my many hours of haunting the small bins there, I knew I’d seen something that would do the trick. I found it:
It’s a nylon “hole plug locking”, size 13/16ths, extortionately priced at something around a US dollar. And well worth it, as far as I was concerned. (Why do I suspect that the packing was more expensive than the bit within?)
The replacement cap has an arguably better design than the Brompton original; instead of a somewhat radically curved edge, the edge on the replacement curves slightly, but has slots to relieve, and then retain, pressure, which I would expect to hold up better than my poor split, unperforated, original. The new cap required a bit of contortion during installation, but has stayed firmly in place since.
Whilst on a group ride yesterday, I showed this to Mike, of Trophy Bikes in Philadelphia. He was quite interested, and I was amused by his immediate question: “Does it come in black?”
Yes, I believe that it can be found in black, though your mileage many vary — along with your eagerness to canvass every hardware store in town. I like the white; I’ll notice if it goes missing.
Nicks and dings are inevitable — and, certainly, indicative of a proud history — but I’m just as happy to postpone them as long as reasonably possible.