Categories
Miscellaneous

We Get It Right (With Tree)

I made an embarrassing slip-up when Basil and I attempted to replicate the Brompton logo a while back.

The second shot of the original series showed both of Basil’s wheels tucked in, when the logo shows them partially folded.  iCrazyBee, of Legend fame, commented and pointed out my error, for which I was grateful, even though it’s taken me months to correct it.

Of course, I’ve got a backlog of Basil’s cards with the wrong images on them.  I probably should re-print them, which will be a bit of a pain. In the meantime, it’s good to have salvaged Basil’s honor, and paid homage — correctly — to one of the best corporate logos out there.

Categories
Miscellaneous

Wildlife

Track of the goose:

Track of the Brompton:

Basil’s track looks awfully delicate compared to the rampaging (and large!) prints left by the feathered crowd.

Categories
Miscellaneous

A Correction

Mr. Diarist noted a previous post, in which I commented that cellos were probably not useful for transport from train to, well, anywhere.  He suggests this may not be so.

Just ask James Bond.

(It’s from The Living Daylights, via Shrunken Cinema.)

Categories
Miscellaneous

Fairy Tale Woods

They’re almost always sinister.

Doesn’t it look a little as if we are being menaced by a primeval forest?  (We are getting away fast, though, so no worries.)

 

Categories
Miscellaneous

Concrete Haven

Hundreds of cars drive over this underpass each day.

It’s so much better to be cycling beneath it.

Categories
Miscellaneous

Less Compact than a Brompton Bicycle

Basil is by no means the most unusual commuter on the train:

This is not the first cello we’ve encountered.  Not useful for riding from the station, though I understand they play well, as do Bromptons.

Categories
Books Miscellaneous

Light and Angst

Underneath the George Washington Bridge on Manhattan’s West Side is a small red lighthouse, which I first wrote about in this post.

This is the sort of charming eccentricity that warms a traveler’s heart.  When I mentioned it to The Manhattanites,  with whom I stay when visiting, they pointed out that a children’s book had immortalized this adorable structure, and had probably been instrumental in saving it from extinction.

Naturally, I tracked down the book.

It’s the tale of the existential angst felt by an outmoded technology shoved aside by newer, shinier things.  As such, a tale for our times.

Inadvertently, though, the work also chronicles other by-gone technologies.

As with the best of books, this one transports the reader to a different world entirely.

There still are tug boats on the Hudson River, of course, but they aren’t exactly like this one.

Because the book was written in 1942, there’s a lot about character:  pride, gratitude, the shame of comeuppance and, eventually, validation.

In a blurb on the back, the New York Herald Tribune is quoted as describing the book’s message as “Each to his own place, little brother”.  Whew — what a message for the ages.

(Just for the record, I think they got it wrong.  I think the real message is closer to “sometimes you can keep old, enchanting, things and have new, shiny, ones, too”.  What kind of a message is “each to his own place” here in the good old USA, where everyone believes “place” is utterly mutable?)

The book’s value now lies in the images capture of a by-gone time, which are as charming as the little lighthouse itself.

The images are also anthropomorphized, but far more subtly than is common today; the illustrator cleverly morphs, ever-so-slightly, the actual features of each object he draws.

Working in just three colors (red, blue, black, against the neutral background), the illustrator does a beautiful job of evoking mood.  The author covers the little lighthouse’s inner turmoil, but also describes the building of the mighty bridge, and throws in a little gratuitous drama, just to keep the story moving, and to resolve the central question of the book:  Can one small lighthouse find meaning in a world in which it is overshadowed, quite literally, by that which is newer and “better”?

You’ll have to read the book to find out:  The Little Red Lighthouse and the Great Gray Bridge by Hildegarde H. Swift and Lynd Ward,  ISBN 0-15-204573-2.  This version is a “restored edition”, replicating the original, with notes about author, illustrator, and an overview of the history of the little red lighthouse, whose checkered history involves more than one flirtation with obsolescence.

 

 

Categories
Miscellaneous

30th Street Spikes

Philadelphia’s 30th Street Station, home of regional rail and Amtrak, has open air gates with these metal arches above:

There are rows of long slender spikes along the upper edge of the horizontal ribs.

They are staggered.  And lethal looking, though they look more like confused icicles here than like the miniature spears they really are.

They’re also on the edges of signs, but not, as far as I can tell, across the top.

Why are these spikes installed high above travelers’ heads?  I saw them on a sign first, which made me wonder if the idea was to discourage enterprising youth from climbing. (As, perhaps, they do.)  But now I’m thinking birds.

Notably, I’ve never seen a bird at these gates. Nor bird droppings. But seriously, are these few spikes sufficient to discourage our avian friends from availing themselves of roosting anywhere nearby?  Somehow, that seems to suggest a lack of enterprise — on the part of the birds, that is, not the humans.

Categories
Miscellaneous

Birdies

When Basil and I aren’t off cycling, I share an office with my spouse.  Working conditions are a little unusual.

The small black cat has a screen of his own, on which he watches birdies.  We work to the sound of tweeting, occasionally interspersed  with the sound of a passing truck.  (There’s a lot of aural variety. You can’t expect a smart small cat to remain interested if it’s just the same old tweets over and over.)

Coffee breaks sometimes involve Maine Coons riding in chest slings.

The little black guy’s favorite video is this one:

Working at home: it’s all you ever imagined!

Categories
Miscellaneous

Bromptons and Bathrooms

We hydrate. We need bathrooms.  But our Bromptons stay by our sides, and we are (quite reasonably) loathe to leave them out of sight.

No problem. “Disability stalls” are good for diverse people:  someone who is temporarily in a walking cast; anyone who uses a wheelchair; parents with a horde of small children; people wearing enormous coats; anyone using a stroller; and Brompton cyclists.

Basil fits anywhere a full-sized stroller can.  Some public bathrooms are so commodious (heh, heh) that it’s possible to take a picture of a Brompton without even showing the fixtures:

Over-sized stalls. Architecture for the common good, and the uncommon cyclist.