Author: The Brompton Diarist

Categories
Books

The Lost Cyclist

One of my favorite bicycling books ever is The Lost Cyclist, by David Herlihy.  Maybe it is my  favorite cycling book:  Seldom is so much adventure, suspense, history, and culture crammed into such an attractive package.

The “lost cyclist” of the title is young Frank Lenz, a speed mad high-wheeler racer and photography buff from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania who sets off, in 1892, to tour the world by bicycle. He never returns, but that fact, and his trip itself, are only a small portion of this tale.

In and around Lenz’s adventures, Herlihy discusses the early history of bicycles, chronicles the racing culture that built up around the famous high-wheel “Ordinaries”, and describes other early long-distance tours done on the most primitive of early bicycles, under the most primitive of conditions.  The wonder isn’t that one cyclist failed; it’s that so many didn’t.

Lenz was inspired, in part, by William Sachtleben and Thomas Allen, fellow Americans whose 1890-1893 world tour on the new Safety bicycle made them famous in an era suddenly gone bicycle-mad.  Several years later, it was Sachtleben who, in 1895, set off to determine what had happened to Lenz; that tale, also recounted in The Lost Cyclist, is as harrowing and as exciting as anything else in the book.

The book’s photographs alone — many taken by Lenz himself — are fascinating, as are the glimpses into the cultures encountered by these intrepid cyclists, the politics of financing such trips, and the means and ways of gaining access to territories with little in the way of organized government. Herlihy is an intelligent and lively writer, and  every page of this terrific book is well worth savoring.

Categories
Gear

The Cue Clip

I use these clips for cue sheets or directions, but I’m not very fond of them.  Cue sheets are a bit more problematic on a Brompton bicycle than they are on bikes that have bags right up at handlebar level.  I end up propping the cue sheet against the cables, and then tacking them in place with these clips.

I want to love these, but I don’t. On the plus side, they’re easy to attach and remove, since they’re held in place with hook-and-loop fasteners.  The profile is small; even if I leave them on all the time, they don’t get in the way of anything.  The clips have a positive lock; they snap into place, so there’s no confusion about whether or not they’ve clamped properly.

The negative is huge, though:  Even a cue sheet folded so that the equivalent thickness of  four sheets of paper is stuffed into the jaws, the clips still cannot be trusted to hold the sheet in place. I’ve had to repeatedly stop and retrieve a cue sheet that fluttered off. That’s annoying:  The clips must only do one thing, and they don’t do it reliably.

And there’s this:  I use two, because one is completely useless.  At around $8 USD, these aren’t cheap. (Though I probably got the first one at an expo for much less.) I’m using this mostly for grocery lists.  If the list falls in the store, it’s easy to pick it up.

I’ve not yet found anything better, which is even more annoying.  These work most of the time (when the wind cooperates?), so I’m still using them, but they aren’t the answer I’d like.

Yeah, those are driving directions to Toronto; I  couldn’t get my hands on a cue sheet quickly, but, you know, it’s all paper!

Categories
Clothing Gear

Sun Sleeves

Sun screen, essential though it may be, is a sticky mess. Even “dry” sunscreen isn’t very nice stuff.  Add to that the necessity of slapping it on all-too-frequently, and you’ve got a prescription for avoidance.

I finally bit the bullet and bought a pair of sun sleeves.  These are made by Specialized; I didn’t research them very carefully, as I wanted them quickly, and sun sleeves have already mostly disappeared from the brick-and-mortar stores I’ve checked (it’s time to stock for fall, don’t you know?), so I hope they do the trick.

Tight bands around my arms — and backpacks — have always been problematic for me, so I’ve had to compromise between keeping my arms from going numb, and getting enough grip at the upper ends of the sleeves in order to keep them on. We’ll see how this works out — maybe I’ll need garters across my collar and back??

Categories
Tours, Trails & Group Rides

The Spoke

While visiting Williamstown, Massachusetts last June I explored the town a bit on Basil, and, not far from where I stayed, I found this bike shop.

It was the end of the day, and I was very sorry, since my experience here was one of the best I’ve had anywhere.  The owner, Nate, loves his shop,  and his employees were cheerful and helpful, too.

I’d read about The Spoke online before I left — at least to the extent of knowing that it existed — but, as the geography in the area was unfamiliar, I had no idea where it was.  When I spied these profiles as Basil and I rode by,  I realized I’d stumbled upon it. (I think these are both Sun cycles: A Spider fat tire mountain bike, and a Tomahawk recumbent.)

There were more bikes out front, but I was eager to get inside.

And whew, what an “inside”!  I stood in open-mouthed wonder for a couple of minutes, trying to take in all I could see.  Basil settled in with the crowd, behind a tricycle and next to a mountain bike, and I asked about fluorescent gloves and blinking lights.

Nate had the gloves in stock in larger sizes, and then checked his catalogues to see what was available.  Not much, as it turned out (and none at all in small sizes) so I’m just hoping that changes before my current set wear out. He took note of the helmet I was wearing, and enthusiastically showed me the newest version — which is now available in fluorescent yellow.  (I immediately regretted having  just purchased my non-fluorescent version right before this trip!)

See those open boxes? They look as if tons of good things are just waiting to be unpacked  .  .  .  actually, the whole store felt like that: Bikes! Bike stands! Gloves, jerseys, fittings, saddles! Tons of helmets (which are behind what you see here)!

Somehow The Spoke has managed to cram a huge inventory of bikes and accessories into a space that feels a lot like an old-time working shop.   Stuff is happening here!

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked into a bike shop and encountered bored, indifferent, or completely disengaged employees. But not here:   Nate and company appear to love what they’re doing, and it shows.

Williamstown  is a relatively isolated college town in Northwestern Massachusetts, replete with narrow roads and with a forbidding winter; it’s wonderful to know that a great bike shop has survived and thrived there.  Lucky Williamstown!

Categories
Miscellaneous

No Cycling? No Worries

A baby sling works just fine.

This boy is not concerned that Basil and I are grounded. He can catch a ride with Mr. Diarist any time he wants to.

(Why, yes, I am getting a bit desperate — writing a blog post every single day is a bit of a challenge if the whole premise of the blog is temporarily off-limits!  However, I promise no more cats for a while — one way or another I’ll be back on cycling –as a topic, at least — shortly. Like tomorrow.)

Categories
Books

Cyclepedia

I’m spending a lot of hours with my leg propped up these days, which, thanks to the impossible profile, isn’t very conducive to much in the way of ordinary activities.

I am normally a voracious reader, but typically do my reading only just before sleeping, so it’s been a a bit of a shift to implement that activity in the middle of the day.  In lieu of cycling, I’ve been effecting that change with a batch of bicycle-related books.

Cyclepedia is the sole album among my current crop of cycling books, and the title is also the name of a current exhibit at The Portland Art Museum in what is arguably the cycling capital of North America: Portland, Oregon.  The exhibition showcases approximately 40 cycles collected by Austrian designer Michael Embacher; the book itself showcases just over 100.

And what a collection it is, ranging chronologically  from the French Vialle Velastic (1925) with its fantastic carriage leaf spring seat post to the German Hase Pino Tour upright/recumbent tandem (2010) with everything imaginable in-between.

The book is not ordered chronologically, but eccentrically, which added enormously to my reading pleasure. Reading it is like strolling through a private collection, arranged to suit the collector, without any external restrictions imposed. The photos, by Bernhard Angerer,  are clear, stunning, and artful; and the text is just enough — neither wordy nor academic, but perfectly suited to a coffee table work whose primary joy lies in the graphic presentation.

I particularly appreciated the table supplied for each cycle, which allowed for quick and easy comparisons of weight, components, and so.  The volume has no traditional index; instead there is a mavelous visual index, with pages of photos of each cycle neatly laid out with page numbers noted.

There’s quite a lot here for any cycling enthusiast:  plenty of folders, early carbon models, some fascinating tandems, and a couple of exciting tricycles, too.  The majority of the collection seems to date from roughly 1965 forward, but there are three models from the 1920s, and  a number from the 40s and 50s, too.

The “Statistics” page offers a beautiful time-line, with weights (in kilos) and frame materials noted.

My only quibble?  Somehow everyone (beginning, presumably, with the author, and continuing on through the publisher) got Andrew Ritchie’s name wrong. It’s recorded as “Ritchley”, which is a pity, especially in such an otherwise well done work.

Categories
Miscellaneous

Still Grounded

Basil and I are still living life in limbo.  My original small surgery resulted in complications, and the complications have developed complications.  It will still be several more weeks before Basil and  are cycling again.

We’re dealing with it, and trying not to gripe too much. As is often the case, things could be worse.

This little guy had had a much harder time.  He spent a week in hospital unexpectedly, and then had equally unexpected — and much more extensive — surgery. We both have had our stitches removed, but he got the worst of that, too, since he had to have general anaesthesia even for that procedure, which has left him groggy for days afterwards.

Also, he’s still wearing that awful cone.  At least I can groom myself — and Basil, too, for that matter.  Bah, humbug  just the same.

Categories
Luggage My Brompton

New T Frame Mod

Basil can never have too many bags, right?  I own a slew of Brompton bicycle bags (well, three, and the Brompton “basket”), and have made quite a few, too.  Each has its place, but no one is perfect, and there’s always a new idea to play with.

I started with a T bag frame.

This time around, I wanted bag that was as tall as a Brompton T bag, but smaller, narrower, and closed all around with a zipper. So I took the T bag frame apart, leaving only the center section (which I promptly forgot to photograph just after the destruction).

Then I bent 1/2 inch copper tubing into a more-or-less pear-like shape (well, half a pear, anyway).

Once one side was done, I traced the shape onto cardboard, so that I had a fighting chance of replicating it for the other side of the frame.

This sort of thing is much better done in a workshop rather than on a kitchen floor. I managed to pull a muscle in the process of bracing the tubing, and didn’t get the sides perfectly symmetrical. “Hand made” has its flaws.

Then I stuffed each newly-bent side into the T frame.  The resulting bag frame is not perfect, but it will do.   The frame is not substantially less wide at the top than the original T frame, which is what I had in mind, but it is so at the bottom.  Without tools, I wasn’t able to bend both ends as drastically as I would have preferred.

It will do, though. Now all I need is the bag.

(For those new to Brompton bags, each clips to a luggage block on the Brompton bicycle frame.  In most cases, the luggage slips onto a removable inner frame, like the ones above, which have the mate to the luggage block built into the back side of the lower frame.  This allows one frame to support a variety of bags — and also allows for a a lot of amateur experimentation.)

Categories
Basil, En-Scène

Profiles in Transport

Categories
Luggage

Mini O

I’m still grounded, so I haven’t used it yet, but Basil now has a Mini O bag as part of his burgeoning luggage collection.  (This is not as insane as it seems: I do a variety of different kinds of bicycling, and what’s suitable for one type is often all wrong for another. )

At any rate, what I haven’t had was a bag that was truly waterproof.  This Ortlieb bag claims to be, within reason. (Don’t dip it into a stream!)  It’s also small enough that using it for long rides is probably feasible; the largest Brompton bags are like wind sails, and not really suitable for 30 mile/48.2 km trips, unless you’re touring and have no choice.  The Mini O  has a much smaller profile.

The Mini O’s mounting plate is integrated into the bag.  It’s big (and relatively heavy), but also supports the bag well, and I can report that it clips on and off the Brompton block quite easily, just as you’d expect.

There’s a Brompton logo at the upper corner, which is a nice touch — and a useful identification tool, as I think Ortlieb also makes a similar bag with a different attachment device. (The logo is  on the right, above, next to the peak of the mounting plate.)

Here’s the back view, and the side facing the cyclist.  This is also the side of the front flap that opens:  Those little tabs to the right and left sides are what you grab to pop the snaps.  (You can just barely make out the round snap caps behind the tabs.)

The flap falls back toward the front of bag and bike, and this is what the rider sees.  There’s a zipper pouch attached to the inside front, and a key fob (to the left, attached to the pouch) inside, and a surprising amount of room inside.

I was dubious about those snaps, but I needn’t have been: The upper edge of the frame is completely rigid, and getting the snaps to connect and close is not a problem. Nor does the frame flex when closing the flap. The snaps are sturdy metal, not molded plastic.

The inside bottom of the bag is supported by thin plastic sheeting, rather cleverly slotted into place.  This seems quite sufficient, especially as the rest of the bag is so well -crafted.

Off the bicycle, the bag is supported on two sturdy feet and the back plate.  It stands on its own, and is so well-balanced that it does not tend to tip even when the top flap is open.

On each side, there is a button to which the shoulder strap attaches.  The top flap is designed to rest on this button, rather than to cover it.  That’s a bit counter-intuitive, but probably adds to the waterproof aspect of the bag. I find that I automatically want to pull the flap over the button when closing the bag, but expect that this inclination will diminish over time.

A shoulder strap (supplied) clips — with a satisfying click — onto these buttons.  Once clipped in place, the strap will rotate, but not disconnect.  I find that I like this connection better than a snap hook, probably because, although the buttons stand out from the side of the bag quite a bit, the clip itself is flat and less obtrusive than a snap hook.

Its other virtues aside, this bag feels a bit odd when worn; that may not matter, as it will primarily be attached directly to my Brompton.  I must remember to wear it with the front next to my body:  The back plate is not a nice thing when pressed against a human waist!  The unyielding nature of the bag — an advantage on the bike — is no such thing on a human.

Too, the bag is a bit awkward to use on a counter, rather than on a bicycle, as it is light weight and opens the “wrong” way.  There’s no ballast to hold the bag in place once it’s off the bike, so pulling a wallet or whatever out of it in other circumstances can be clumsy.

There’s one last feature:  The Brompton logo, and the trim on the handle, are reflective, which is always a nice touch.

I usually buy my Brompton gear from NYCeWheels in New York city, who give great service, but they were sold out of this black-on-black Mini O. I found mine at Portapedal Bike in Tempe, Arizona.  I phoned to confirm that the bag really was there, and Al sent it out to me immediately:  I had it by the end of the week.  (Hint: want an out-of-stock waterproof bag?  Go to the desert!)

That’s all I know so far. I took this new Mini O (and Basil) to the doctor’s office when I got  my stitches removed, thinking, all-too-optimistically, that I’d be able to ride immediately, which let me report on what wearing it is like.  Soon, I hope, I’ll be able to report on what it’s like to use it on Basil.