The Momentum

If you're reading this, you're a cyclist. Or want to be. And, you're not alone. I'm by no means new to the bicycle movement—I've been riding bicycles for transportation and tourism for 35 years. But it doesn't take a sixth sense to feel the vibe. There are more bike riders on the road. And not strictly for exercise. There are more folks pedaling to jobs, hauling groceries, cycling to school.

I'm unsure how the surge started. Was it Lance Armstrong's popularity? He certainly was responsible for the uptick in road bike sales. Or gas prices? Holy cow, Burlington's is nearly $4.00 a gallon. Who wants to pay $50.00 to fill their tank? Ouch. Or is it the Internet, drawing attention to places like Denmark and Netherlands where they have amazing bike culture? The downturn in the U.S. economy may be largely responsible. No longer is a two car, two income family the norm—or at the very least will not be, in my opinion, in the future. Or is it all of these factors combined? One thing is for sure, the momentum is building.

People are writing about it. Pick your specific bike genre: mountain biking, racing, commuting, advocacy, even bicycle chic. Thousands of bike blogs cater to specific bicycling culture. The beauty of the Internet is that not only can one read about biking in far flung places, you can see videos, see bike paths in Amsterdam, Copenhagen, anywhere. The more you look the more you realize that it doesn't take fancy equipment to ride. Research on You Tube how to maintain your bike. The average person can invigorate that dusty bike that was years ago relegated to the attic.

Check out Craig's List. The proliferation of old three, five, and ten speeds, even older touring bikes that have been restored, are now being ridden once again. It's astounding. There is a market for vintage bikes. It's now acceptable to ride something that's used—it's even fashionable.

It's heartening to see the renaissance of women pedalers. We are still the minority, but our numbers are growing. And those blogging about their experiences is staggering—an affirmation, really that we're on the right track and want to spread the news. A year ago I added anniebikes to a listing of women-only bloggers compiled by Bike Style Spokane.  Take a look at MY BLOG ROLL on the right. This is just a smidgen of what's out there. Some ladies are new to cycling, navigating their way through the commuter world. Some have come back to cycling after years away; many are old hats like me. And, yes, I follow the guys too.

Montreal has a popular bike share program called BIXI (an amalgam of "bicycle" and "taxi") aimed at the sub 30 minute ride, designed for commuting and errands. Washington D.C. recently started a similar program. Shortly, New York City and Chicago will continue the trend. The list goes on.

Before I left Portland, Oregon to return home in 1996, for a few months I acted as a steward for Bicycle Transportation Alliance. I volunteered to meet commuter wannabees at a designated spot on the east side to provide encouragement and/or personal escort to their workplace. I never got a customer. Fast forward to 2006. I returned to visit friends. I borrowed a bike to ride around my old haunts and was blown away by the steady stream of commuters. A lot can change in little time.

In Burlington, university students ride to classes. They pedal to the beach. Professors ride in between buildings. It's nothing new to see full bike racks on campus. What is new is the conversation. I overhear students planning ride adventures or displaying their bikes to one another.

When we moved back home in 1996 there still was the one reputable bike store, supporting 40,000 people. Now there are two more. One of those sells used bikes. The bike trails are busy. There are more commuters on my rides to work. The movement is happening, heartening, and healthy. Clearly, we're on a roll.

Dual Personas

Since I've owned the Ross Mount Saint Helens and decked it out with baskets and flowers, I too have taken on this metamorphosis. I have transformed from a mountain-bike-only commuter into a flamboyant, skirted, swinging-pigtail-loving middle aged mom on a girly bike. I must have this latent artsy side that is bursting through, embracing this love of color and individualism.

On the other hand, while I commute or tour, I'm ever a practical cyclist. I wear breathable clothing, bike shoes, haul rain gear, tote tools, pump, and first aid kit. 

City girl on a step-through bike. Skirt swinging, tootling, visiting coffee shops, flowers on her bag.

Commuter girl in the country. Touring bike or mountain bike, tights, blue jacket, even shoe covers—for goodness sake!

I find this dichotomy quite interesting. And fun. In fact, I was never this way until I fixed up the girly bike. Do you ever feel like two different riders, completely changing your appearance?

New Handlebars for the Ross, Take Two

I moved the anniebikes workshop outside to take advantage of a nice afternoon. The thumb shift levers are temporarily secured in mid-bar position; the old cables are too short, but for now I'll keep them intact.

I tried cutting a new length of housing. Our cable cutters are so old that it rendered the cut pretty rough, so I appealed to a neighbor who came over with a Park tool and snipped the end clean. He's leaving them with me for the duration of my project. I need to buy my own pair for future use (how's that for optimism?).

It was easy to unhook and remove the old brake cable. I swung the bar from side to side to insure I cut adequate length housing and cable, with three inches of cable to spare. At some point I may need to reposition the brake lever. I don't know what the final up and down position of the bar will be so I sat on the seat and temporarily adjusted it. I believe the stem is as low as it can go.

Voila! I replaced my first housing and cable. The brake lever looks pretty good too. There will obviously be fine tuning with the cantilever brake adjustment, but I'll leave that for later. One thing I learned is a ratchet works well for securing the brake lever to the bar. I needed to squeeze the lever to leave a gap, which is where the screw is located, to tighten the clamp. And it's best to unhitch the cable or better yet, tighten the clamp before the cable is in place.

Of special note: I would've like to use these brake levers in the downward position so they are partially hidden beneath the bar like a 3-speed, but it's not possible with this type. The lever cants at an odd angle and thus it's not comfortable to grip. I also looked into bar end clamp-type levers (inverse) otherwise known as track levers, but these mustache bars are not built with that type of opening. At least I considered the possibilities...

I had to step back and admire the bike. I love the curve of these bars.

The double allen bolts look like eyes. The stamped "R" for Ross shows up well now.

Old brake levers are still strapped to the front rack.

And the bars are swept upward. I may need to adjust the seat angle when this project is finished. Okay, back to work.

Now that I was feeling like I could really do this thing, I placed the right brake lever in place and began to tighten the clamp. It took several turns. Maybe too many, because suddenly I heard a crack. Jeesh. Then a few choice words. I'm glad my kids didn't hear me. I'd broken the brake. On a 30+ year old Mafac brake. Rats!

I took a deep breath and put the bike away for a few days. In the meantime, I did some research. New brake levers are expensive. But I came up with an assortment of old clamps on eBay for 6.00 that should replace the part that's broken. So I'll wait.

Did you know that Mafac is French? Apparently people are selling all kinds of Mafac parts for hefty prices too. A similar pair of brakes is listed for 35.00. My husband has a whole box of these parts from his 1970s Peugeot. I'm glad he kept them.

Another day I went back to the bike and put on the two shifting cables. You can see that the bars will be a spider web of black wires, but it's the best I can do. I'm also limited by the left shifting cable that routes through the stem.

Still waiting for that package of clamps...

Netherlands - A Welcome Respite

Follow New Posts in the Around The World series on Mondays. Click here for the Introduction.

Scheveningen,  Photo credit: moscau.de 

Saturday, August 13

Monique and Hugo live in a small house within a mile of the North Sea. After a quick breakfast we went grocery shopping then headed to the beach for a leisurely stroll. The breeze was warm and humid. I took my shoes off and we ambled, mainly catching up with Hugo and getting to know Monique. I admired her tall frame and poise. Mostly it was her ease and friendliness that I found alluring and was delighted that Hugo had found such a wonderful partner. I tried not to be too shocked at the topless sunbathers, but for our Dutch friends it’s normal, so I overlooked the “scenery” (as best I could) and tried to fit in.

Berries with quark.
Photo credit: FitBodies Food

For dinner our friends cooked a fabulous fish entree with salad, potatoes, zucchini, and dessert. I relished the change of cuisine – anything other than one pot pasta meals – and ate too much. I bypassed the dessert glass filled with berries on quark, a soft cheese that resembled yogurt. I’d try it in the morning.

Sunday, August 14

All four of us went by car to Amsterdam for the afternoon. Part of the city was built on reclaimed land, meaning it’s below sea level. A canal is constructed, sectioned off, water is pumped out, and that land is filled with housing and businesses. It seems like odd urban sprawl. But these European countries have a culture that is so old that I cannot help but shake my head in wonder. There is so much to learn.

A common sight in Amsterdam. Photo credit: Flybee.com

We walked and walked - a mode that felt particularly good after too many long days in the saddle. Of course there were bikes everywhere, outnumbering automobiles, and it was something I didn’t marvel at anymore. To be Dutch is to cycle. Hugo and Monique did daily errands with their own bikes. But for now we pleasantly strolled along the canals, with a midafternoon cappuccino and apple torte break at an outdoor café.

Hugo, Andy, Monique and I enjoy a cappuccino with apple torte.

As if to confirm the dense urban population, houses are only two rooms wide but many stories high, all connected like brownstones in New York City. Monique pointed out one turret-topped place, a single room’s width. She remembered it from a canal tour. It’s the narrowest home in Amsterdam. Most homes sport functioning hooks and ropes jutting from roof tops. Staircases are too narrow, so this is how occupants hoist furniture up and through large windows.

The narrowest home in Amsterdam is the one with the red door.

Canal boat homes moored in spots. Potted plants and benches adorned decks. It reminded me of houseboat living along the Columbia River in Oregon. But here a few supported makeshift shelters; on one an old man lived, his floating home completely covered with stuff as if he was having a garage sale.

The Red Light district. Photo credit: Hannah Briggs

We headed towards the city’s red light district, a maze of narrow cobblestone alleys. Amsterdam is well known for its prostitutes and drugs. Neon signs advertise sexual favors in four languages. Nederland is also the only European country that legally sells marijuana. It is listed on menus in “coffee houses”. Andy and I gawked and giggled at a window display. There were condoms with flavors, some in the shape of roosters and dolphins, and even a style for soccer fans. And prostitutes provocatively sit in floor to ceiling glass windows in various stages of undress. Vacant windows displayed drawn red curtains. On a Sunday, tourists flock to Amsterdam so we weren’t the only ones taking in the show.

In the evening we took our friends to an Italian dinner in their hometown, Den Haag. Afterward, we all enjoyed the simple life, sipping coffee and chatting in the living room. Hugo and  Monique are not married, but it’s obvious how smitten and comfortable they are with each other. 

Climate Shift

I find it fascinating that the descent from warm and sheltered, brick-lined downtown Burlington to the waterfront takes on this climatic shift. It can easily be 5-10F colder. And, with the wind, oh that biting northern wind that comes unbidden from Canada, well, it feels like another place altogether. While I frequently head to the lake, I don wind protection; headband and gloves are necessities. The flip side of clear, colder weather is the spectacular view of the Adirondacks in New York.

A couple years ago the city sunk the utilities in this block, part of a master plan to redo the appearance and thus appeal of the waterfront. The street lights and cruise boat is an attractive gateway. I'm also taken with the square-shaped sculpture with the hole. This is the symbol outside the ECHO science center. A metal fish is suspended in the circle (not visible here), but mostly it's distinctive in that it allows a view of mountains, water, or sky, apparent in this photo.

I headed into the wind on the bike path, searching for signs of Spring. There are hyacinth and daffodils blooming in my garden. Maples are budding. A rhododendron is bursting fuchsia blossoms. But along the lakefront it still looks like stick season, the only color coming from greening grass. I looked for trillium, usually a common sight in April, but it was clearly too early. In one sunny spot a carpet of blue scilla scattered along a fence line. I pounced on the opportunity for a photo.

A while later the way is sheltered by trees and neighborhoods and riding becomes pleasant. I forgot to turn into a park for a loop that would bring me back home. Instead, I decided to continue and check out a family camp. The driftwood that my husband and I collected last fall remained on the deck rail. They still resemble bleached bones.

The lovely clear view holds the power to entrance. Ski trails on Whiteface Mountain are discernible, reminding me that some resort areas are still open. In the heat of summer, especially when the humidity is cranked unbearably high, we cannot even see across the lake until a thunderstorm breaks the moisture.

I head homeward, retracing the route. There weren't many cyclers or walkers. A father and son played street hockey at a rink. Nearby the skateboard park was eerily quiet—it was a school day—but then I noticed a sign. The park is permanently closed due to unsafe conditions. I heard the place will eventually be relocated, but it may be a couple of years before it happens. This park is highly utilized and has been monitored and kept clean for many years. Our children often bring skates or ride their bikes if it's not too crowded, so I was sad to see it's demise.

I rode an alternate route up the hill, stopping at a bakery for a dense loaf of raisin bread. It was well past lunchtime so I couldn't resist tearing into the crust. Then it was time to continue home. I welcomed the balmy realm of flowering forsythia and magnolias.