All About the Looks

As recounted in previous posts, I am frequently approached by strangers who are drawn to my loop frame bicycles. It is not a matter of how expensive the bicycle is, and it is not a matter of whether the bike is new and shiny or old and crusty. But something about that elegant curve - combined with the dress guards, chaincase, and wide cream tires - seems to make these bicycles visually irresistible. Most of the time it is women who approach me, and most of the time they are not cyclists. Their attraction to my bicycle is purely a matter of looks. Upon learning that I actually ride for transportation, the ladies will typically enumerate all the reasons why they can't possibly ride a bike - all the while staring at mine with a longing that I can tell is normally reserved for jewelry store window shopping.

Having gone through this type of interaction more times than I can count, I cannot help but believe that aesthetic attraction alone can make people want to ride a bike, or at least try. And while that motive has been mocked by some, I personally find it fascinating. Just think about what this means: The natural beauty of the classic transportation bicycle is so powerful, that it can make even those who are not interested in cycling wish to do it.

Although my reasons for cycling were never based on looks per se, looks certainly played a role in pushing me over the edge from an ambivalent "it would be nice, but..." attitude, to the enthusiasm that led to the start of this blog. The Co-Habitant and I had talked about getting bikes for a couple of years, but when it came down to it I just could not imagine myself riding. Then one day, I spotted this bike in the neighbourhood and suddenly I could imagine it perfectly well. The design of the bicycle suggested that cycling could be done in a way that is easy, safe, and not in the least bit sports-oriented. While initially the extent of our cycling ambitions was to ride on the trails together on weekends, my growing fascination with the bicycle led to the research that made us view it as a viable option for transportation. And although this was never, ever our intent, two years later we stopped using our car entirely.

While I am not suggesting that every woman who thinks my bicycle is pretty is likely to follow the same course, I do believe that looks are important. And it is not so much a matter of beauty, as it is a matter of engaging the imagination - of the person being able to picture themselves riding the bike. There are multitudes of people out there who do not cycle, because they do not view it as something that is "for them." Setting eyes on a bicycle that appeals to them could change that in a matter of moments.

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The Morning After: Post-Sport Transport

Today is a day like any other. I unlocked my bike from our outdoor storage area, clipped my pannier onto its rear rack and took off for the day, wearing my regular clothing. If I get home after dark, I will give my dynamo bottle a little push and the lights will come on - sustained by my pedaling. I cycle carefully in traffic. I sit upright. Drivers and pedestrians see my old-fashioned loop frame bike and they often wave to me and smile. I have been doing this more or less every day for over two years. As a mode of transportation it is perfect for me; I have truly found something that works. And I enjoy helping others who feel that it could work for them.

But cycling in traffic this morning, I am also remembering what happened last night - and it's like a fuzzy memory of a drunken party in its sheer unreal-ness. I went on another paceline ride, starting off in a faster group this time. Five miles in I dropped my chain accelerating uphill, which was mortifying and had never happened to me before. But disaster was averted ("Chain off!! Slowing!"), the chain was soon back on, and we (the woman who stayed behind to help and I) caught up with the group in no time. The chase was a nice warm-up. Toward the middle of the ride, we ended up splitting in two again, with myself and a couple of others in the front. We received minimal instruction in this slightly more advanced group, and I took frequent turns rotating. I was on a high from the sheer excitement of it, not even feeling my legs - only the speed. As the end of the ride neared, the leader asked who wanted to go on an extra climb instead of straight back, and I was among those who came along. We were allowed to pass each other uphill, and I did - passing the others, then waiting at the bottom of the hill for a good few minutes. Next time, I am told I can join the next group up. There was also discussion of joining the team. Then I cycled home for 10 miles, elated but not particularly tired. Even as I write this, it sounds like I am making it all up. My mind is swirling.

Riding my bike for transportation, I feel at ease and familiar with the city where I used to resent living just a couple of years ago. Everything seems friendlier now, more accessible, more connected to my life. I have a personal map of the city in my mind, where every area includes the sensory experience of riding my bike there. I continue to discover new neighborhoods that surprise me, feeling like an explorer every time I need to venture somewhere new. It's wonderful, and I don't write about it daily only because it has become so incorporated into my everyday routine as to become mundane.

I wonder whether I will ever experience this sense of familiarity and belonging with cycling as a sport. I feel wildly different from the other women doing the paceline rides, who seem so comfortable with the very notion of it all.  They've been running, going to the gym and playing other sports all of their lives, while I've stayed as far away from such activities as possible. And it's not just a matter of being intimidated. The non-athletic have prejudices against the athletic, whether they want to admit it or not. I grew up with perceptions of athletes as shallow, aggressive, cliquish and bullying - nothing us artsy kids wanted to be a part of. It's hard to get away from that mentality, even as an adult, and it's hard to get comfortable with the idea of being something I am not. Hearing things like "put the hammer down, girl!" followed by appreciative cheering, makes me feel conspicuously out of place.

Cycling to the training ride in my shorts, jersey, gloves, styrofoam bonnet and sunglasses yesterday, I got a "Hey, slow down!!" shouted at me by a woman strolling on the wrong side of the bike path, accompanied by a look of pure hatred. I glanced at my computer and confirmed that I was in fact going very slowly. But she saw me as fast, aggressive, and dangerous nonetheless. Would this same woman have waved to me and smiled had I been riding my loop frame bike wearing a dress?

Since I began writing about paceline rides, some readers have told me they feel I am sending "the wrong message" by getting involved in roadcycling and publicising this involvement: My "turning into a roadie" only confirms the stereotype of cycling as an extreme sport. At the same time, the supportive emails I've gotten from the pro-roadcycling camp border on pressure - from suggestions for which local team to join, to being told that I am in a unique position to advance the cause of getting more women into racing. For the most part, I am just confused by it all. I admit that I am now addicted to the paceline rides, and that joining a local cycling team is appealing. At the same time, I am socially uncomfortable both within a group of roadies, and also with being perceived as one. Call it a mild cycling-identity crisis.

I cannot take seriously the idea that to take part in paceline rides is to "betray" transportation cycling. I see the two as completely independent activities that can be pursued in parallel. Am I being unrealistic? Today I am cycling for transport while daydreaming of sport, and it seems completely natural.

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Soggy and Squeaky

Since Linda began a new life as an outdoor bike, it has been raining heavily and continuously. I considered bringing the poor bike back inside, but resisted. In her 15 years of life she has probably seen worse. So I left her outdoors as it poured day after day.

So what's the damage to a Dutch transport bike after two weeks of being left out in the rain? Well, the main thing is that the front brake has developed a shrill squeal. I didn't know that could happen to hub brakes, but apparently it can. The stopping power is the same as before, only now it sounds like a hysterical piglet. The rear coaster brake makes no noise. Should I somehow lubricate the front hub? We are scaring people at intersections! [Update: The front brake squeal stopped on its own as soon as the rains stopped. Works as well as before and just as silently.]

The other thing is that the leather grips are now completely soggy, since, unlike the saddle, I made no provisions to cover them. I installed these grips in October and they've been rained and snowed on many times with no adverse consequences, so I didn't think it would be a big deal to just leave them uncovered. But of course when it rains non-stop for so many days, it's a different story. Not sure what to do now other than just wait for the sun and let them dry out naturally. But in the future I should try Bobbin and Sprocket's smart solution.

Otherwise, nothing on the bike seems any worse for wear. I am especially pleased that my silver lug-lining (done with a Sharpie!) has held up and that the bottle dynamo is unaffected. Now if only it would stop raining!

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Keeping Your Bike Outdoors

Last week I finally turned my Gazelle into an outdoor bicycle. It has become clear to me over time that parking a transportation bike where it is easily accessible - instead of maneuvering it in and out of doors and up and down stairs every time I need to go somewhere - increases its utility tremendously. Dutch transport bikes in particular were simply not designed to be kept inside apartments. They are heavy, unwieldy and also durable - with all their delicate parts covered from the elements. And while theft is a concern, I think that our fear of it - when it comes to heavy transportation bikes - is disproportional to its actual risk. Bike theft in the US is not nearly as bad as in places like the Netherlands and Denmark, yet in those places bikes are kept outdoors 24/7. Plus, I seriously doubt that a 45lb clunker would be on a bicycle thief's priority list. Why chose fear over convenience when statistics are on our side?

That is not to say that precautions should not be taken: My first order of business was to get one of those huge, heavy chains. I deliberated over Abus vs. Kryptonite and received feedback both for and against each of them. In the end, I think that either chain is sufficient. I chose Kryptonite because a local bike shop had them in stock. The chain is thick and the system is easy to use.

I keep the chain wrapped around an iron rail in a convenient spot at the back of our house. When the bike is parked there, I chain it up. When I use the bike, I leave the chain behind. The key to the little U-Lock that connects the chain is attached to my housekeys, and we have spares at home.

The space next to the railing is cramped, making it impossible to wrap the chain around the frame. So instead, I wrap it around the bicycle's rear wheel. If you are familiar with classic Dutch bikes (full chaincase, dressguards, bolted rear triangle), you will know that removing a rear wheel on these babies requires tools and takes about a half hour - so locking up this way is not much riskier than chaining it through the frame. I also put a cable lock through the frame and front wheel (the cable lock goes with me when I take the bike out). While no lock-up method is 100% secure, I feel comfortable with mine. I weighed the utility of this arrangement against what I perceive to be the risk of theft, and to me it's worth it.

One thing I still need to get is a heavy-duty waterproof saddle cover; ideally something that doesn't look expensive. I have a bunch from Brooks and Rivendell, but they either do not fit the huge saddle properly or are not entirely waterproof. Any saddle cover suggestions for a Brooks B66?

It is not my intent to suggest that everyone ought to keep their bike outdoors. Judge for yourself based on how much extra utility you think you would get from that, as well as how comfortable you are with leaving it out. If you do decide to go that route, I suggest a good chain, a plan for saddle protection (it will rain if you leave it uncovered overnight!), and a lock-up ritual that does not end up being too fussy and time consuming. Do you lock your bike outdoors?

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Simple Solution for Unforeseen Groceries

I have now stopped using the Urbana bike that I was test-riding in April and have gone back to my Gazelle. While overall I prefer the Gazelle, I do miss some of the Urbana's neat features and have been trying to devise ways of making the Gazelle just as accommodating. Among other things, I want to find a DIY solution that will emulate the utility of Urbana's fantastic rack that accommodates any grocery bag without requiring panniers. I thought hard, but could not come up with anything... until fate did it for me. If you haven't fainted yet from my use of plastic bags, perhaps you'll appreciate this.

Yes, two bags tied together and turned into "panniers." It was totally impromptu. We were cycling past a grocery store just as it was about to close, when we realised that we had neither anything to eat at home, nor anything to carry it in if purchased. We ran in and bought some food, thinking we'd carry it home on the handlebars. But then, in a flash of brilliance, the Co-Habitant created the objet d'art you see here. We cycled home ridiculously happy. I guess this is what one of my readers meant when he wrote that "a peasant in any number of countries with a million plastic bags can figure out and equal number of ways of carrying their stuff."

Question: Why would one even buy dedicated grocery panniers, if they can take a pair of reusable canvas bags, connect them by the handles (with an S-hook or a bungee cord), and secure them to the rack either via rat trap or via the same bungee? I realise that the plastic bags in my pictures look horrible, but a pair of nice reusable shoppers could look as good as panniers while also being more versatile and costing just a fraction of the price. Does it just not occur to people in the same way it did not occur to us? While I am delighted to have this method of carrying groceries in a pinch, I am also feeling foolish that I did not think to do it earlier. It takes skill to recognise simple solutions, and that's a skill I would like to develop.

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Zipcar... Not at All Like Bikeshare

So, we have finally signed up for Zipcar, and I thought it might be useful to share my impressions. While I had imagined a motorised version of a bikeshare program, Zipcar is a different thing entirely.

Here is how it works: First you buy a yearly membership. It is worth noting that some employers have programs for employees to try it free, which was the case with us - but otherwise it's $60 per year plus a $25 application fee (so essentially you pay $85 to sign up). You are then able to rent a Zipcar by the hour at rates that start at $7.50 per hour. The rate depends on the type of car you need. So, for instance, a compact sedan might be $7.50, but a truck or SUV would be more like $12. You can also rent a Zipcar for an entire day, and the daily rates start from $69. To use a car you must reserve it, which can be done online or via smartphone. You specify in advance the exact time you will be getting and returning the car, and when finished, you must return the car to the same location from which you got it.

I can see how this system would be useful for those who need a car for short and pre-planned trips to the grocery/  hardware/ furniture store, or for meetings with clients that are short and finite in nature. However, our needs are different and there is no way Zipcar would work for us in most circumstances.

Scenario 1: We need to go to our photo studio or to a photoshoot in a far-off location, and to bring a bunch of enormous equipment with us. We will then be staying there for 5 hours working, maybe longer - depends how it goes. And it's the weekend.

Problems: We'd have to rent the car for en entire day, because at the hourly rate it would not be worth it. Either way, the rate would be quite high, because we'd need a large vehicle. Additionally Zipcar's weekend rates are higher than weekday rates, which would make the fee greater still. Car rental makes more sense than Zipcar.

Scenario 2: There is an urgent situation and we need a car right away.

Problems: We check the Zipcar reservation site and there are no cars available in any locations within 2 miles from us for the next hour and a half (This is true: I just checked). We also do not know for how long we need the car - could be 45 minutes, or could be 3 hours. A taxi makes more sense than Zipcar.

So... since 90% of the times we need a car, it is one of the above scenarios, Zipcar is not really the right choice for us. However, I think that if Zipcar worked more like a bikeshare program, it could be more useful for everyone. In many areas, there is a dense grid of Zipcar locations - so why not make it so that a car can be checked out from one location and returned to another? I am sure there are good logistical reasons why this is not done, and as always no system is perfect. I hope this was useful for those considering a Zipcar membership and wondering how the system works.

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Mileage As Measure of Sport vs Transport

I was chatting with someone who wanted to know whether I was predominantly a recreational cyclist or a transportational one, and their criterion for determining this was mileage: how many miles I cycled for sport vs transport. Earlier I had seen an online poll that used the same measure - which made me wonder whether this is the de facto industry method for determining how cyclists see themselves. Do manufacturers conducting market research use mileage to understand what kinds of bicycles would be more in demand?

Even if I factor in the winter months, on average I cycle many more miles on a roadbike than I do for transportation. But I still see myself as a transportation cyclist first and foremost for one simple reason: I actually depend on my bike to get around. Sure, roadcycling is fun and I love it. But cycling for transportation is necessary. I do not drive and I am serious about not being able to take public transportation: I did it a total of maybe 6 times over the winter, each trip followed by nausea and migraine. When it snowed too much to ride a bike, I decreased my travel radius and compromised: Instead of going to my preferred stores, I went to the ones within walking distance, and I postponed a number of trips and activities. In the end, it wasn't so bad. But it made me aware of how bicycle-dependent I am. So even if my daily transportation trips total less than 5 miles, they are more important to me than a 50 mile "training" ride on a roadbike. In my view, that makes me a transportational cyclist.

What do you think of mileage as a determinant of what kind of cycling you affiliate yourself with - would your mileage be congruent with how you perceive yourself?

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Getting My Groove Back!

Finally, oh finally! Today I felt like myself on my bike again. Not watching my speed. Not watching for black ice. Not getting off every couple of blocks to drag the poor bike across a snowbank or to cross a tricky intersection in order to make a left turn. While Spring has not fully sprung yet, winter is definitely gone and the roads are clear. So what if it's raining and there isn't a green leaf or flower in sight (other than on my tights)? I got my cycling groove back!

Taking it nice and slow on the Gazelle since the snow began to fall in December, I'd almost forgotten how awesome this bicycle feels to ride when I really push it. Though heavy, it accelerates wonderfully and moves fluidly with my body. It is tremendous fun to cycle 17mph on this gorgeous beast - steering with my hips and leaning into turns with abandon - sometimes to the amazed looks of passers-by and fellow cyclists. Oh my 50lb flying machine, how I've missed these good times!

And if you're wondering how I know that I can go 17mph on the Gazelle, it's thanks to the Co-Habitant's computer on his Pashley. Yes, he has computers both on his roadbike and on his transport bike, and when we ride together he likes to inform me of my speed. Although secretly pleased, I dutifully pretend to be annoyed. I mean, come on - a computer on a Pashley Roadster! What's next, bottle cages? Oh wait...

Well, as you can tell, I am in a fine mood. I had not fully realised until now how much cycling this winter had been stressing me out. While I am always vigilant when riding in traffic, the sort of hyper-vigilance the road conditions commanded over the past two months really did a number on my nerves. I guess for me, cycling is both stressful and tedious if I expect to have to execute emergency maneuvers at any moment. I wouldn't make a good bike messenger for sure.

Of course, one downside to the winter ending is that all the thick wool hats I've been making (that our apartment is now littered with) will soon have to be retired until the next cold season - but that is a small price to pay for getting my cycling groove back. It has been weird to keep up Lovely Bicycle for the past couple of months while doing only a minimal amount of cycling, and I felt almost fraudulent to be waxing lyrical about bicycle design and cycling-related issues while riding hardly 10 miles per week. Hopefully that is all in the past (that is, until next winter) and I will soon once again have the pleasure of boring you with descriptions of 40 mile rides on my roadbikes, trips to distant grocery stores, and discoveries of new-to-me lands.

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You Take What You Can Get!

Today was the first time in two months that I went on what can even remotely be described as a "recreational" ride. Having finished my errands, I continued onto the Charles River trail for a half hour - then turned around and rode back. The wind was brutal and the temperature around 30°, but the trail was finally free of snow and I couldn't resist it despite my continually running nose. 

It felt weird to cycle "for no reason" after not having done it for so long! I kept thinking "wait, where am I going again?" before remembering that I wasn't headed anywhere in particular. But I'm sure I'll get used to it soon.

The Charles River trail now has less snow on it than the roads do - which is odd, because I didn't think they'd even plowed it all winter. Maybe it's warmer next to the river.  As for the roads, the snow has mostly melted - but hardened snowbanks still pop up when you least expect them, making transportation cycling like an obstacle course that requires constant merging in and out of traffic. I keep looking out the window and hoping that finally, today cycling will be normal again. But it isn't quite there yet. You take what you can get.

On the road, I had a conversation with a motorist at an intersection that I've had several times before (not with the same motorist, mind you). The light had just turned red and the driver began signaling a right turn. Since I was already on his right, I positioned myself slightly ahead of him and waited for the light to change.

Driver (good-naturedly): You trying to race me, hon? I'm pretty sure I'll win!

Me: What?... Oh. No, I'm trying to make sure that you see me and we don't collide when you turn right. If I'm further back you might not see me.

Driver: Huh?  (thinks about it for a moment) Oooooh. Huh! Okay, that makes sense. And I've been wondering why you guys do that.

For me, these kinds of interactions confirm what I intuitively suspect: Some of the safety maneuvers that cyclists take for granted as being logical and inherently understood by both parties involved, in fact often aren't. So here was this motorist, apparently wondering for God-knows-how-long why the heck all these cyclists need to make it a point of stopping slightly in front of him at intersections, and the reason simply never occurred to him until I explained it. And no, I don't think he was teasing me by pretending not to understand. Still, at least he was friendly and from now on he'll know. You take what you can get!

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Have Delta Cruisers Met Their Match?

How is this for proof that my aesthetic preferences do not trump all else: I think the old, nondescript tires on my vintage Gazelle may have been ever so slightly more comfortable than the gorgeous, creamy new Delta Cruisers I replaced them with. I replaced the old tires not for the looks, but because they were 15 years old and worn out. I rode with the original tires for the first 5 months of owning the bike, but winter was coming and it seemed like the right time to get new ones. And as long as I was replacing them, the 28" Schwalbe Delta Cruisers were the natural choice: beautiful, gloriously shock absorbent, and puncture resistant. I love them on my Raleigh DL-1, I loved them on the Steyr Waffenrad I rode in Vienna, I love them in the 700C size on my Royal H. mixte, and I loved them in the 26" size on my formerly owned Pashley Princess and Raleigh Sports.

What I like about Delta Cruisers in terms of functionality, is that they are both faster and cushier (i.e. better at dampening road shock) than other tires I've tried in equivalent sizes and widths. Whenever I replace other tires with Delta Cruisers, the change has always resulted in an "Ahhh, much better!" feeling... until now. It's a tiny difference, but I think the old tires on the Gazelle may have felt softer. I am not ready to state this with certainty, because the roads are in such worse condition now than they were before winter's start and part of me hopes there may just be more potholes now than before. But on the other hand, I remember the feeling of going over the potholes themselves as having been a bit better with the old tires.  Darn! Just when I thought I was done with this bike, there is something new to obsess about.

It took me a while to determine the brand of the old tires, as they were quite worn out. But finally I was able to make out "Kenda NL 40-635." Ah, so they are Kendas, made for the Dutch market. The checkered tread pattern looks just like this, but I don't see any 28" tires on Kenda's website. I've been able to find some on ebay that look like they might be the same model - or at least the current version of the same model, as the tires on my bike were made 15 years ago. But will they feel as good as my old ones? I've read so-so reviews of Kenda tires and it's hard for me to believe that they could be more comfortable than Schwalbe Delta Cruisers. Still, I am open minded and will readily admit it if indeed this is so. I don't want to replace the lovely Delta Cruisers, but for me ride quality is an area where comfort wins over aesthetics. Does anyone have 28" Kenda tires on their bike?

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Right Up Front

Some readers notice that I always have the front brake lever set up on the right handlebar on my bikes and ask me why, since the opposite arrangement is more typical in the US.  The quick answer is that I find the "right front" setup more intuitive and more convenient. I have owned bikes with both "left front" and "right front" setups, and consistently began to notice that I prefer to have the front brake lever on the right handlebar. So at some point we rerouted all of my bikes to have the front brake on the right side, and I've been happy since.

Some reasons why I prefer the "right front" set-up:

. My right hand is slightly dominant to my left, and it makes sense to squeeze the front brake - which is the dominant brake - with my dominant hand. 

. On bikes that are coaster brake or fixed gear and have only the front handbrake, it likewise makes sense to squeeze the sole handbrake with my dominant hand.

. Using the right hand for braking leaves my left hand free to signal turns and traffic maneuvers. 

. This one is tricky to describe, but under some conditions I use the front brake as a "stop rolling" device when quickly dismounting my bike, and this maneuver works best when the front brake lever is on the right. 

There are different views out there regarding which set-up makes the most sense, and Sheldon Brown has a nice write-up about it here. Ultimately, I think it is up to the individual cyclist to determine which feels more natural to them. And if the setup with which your bike came from the store doesn't feel right, be aware that this is something that can easily be changed by re-routing the brake cables.  

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Is the Wheel Lock a Useful Feature?

Yesterday I mentioned not being a huge fan of bicycle wheel locks (or "cafe locks"), and so I wanted to elaborate. Most typically used on transportation bicycles, the wheel lock is a circular contraption that is installed over the rear wheel, with a metal latch sliding through the spokes when the key is turned. The wheel lock immobilises the bike, thus making it more difficult to steal - especially if the bike is heavy. I thought it was a neat idea before I owned one, but the Axa wheel lock on my Pashley annoyed me so much that I eventually removed it. The older model on my Gazelle works much better, but I am still considering getting rid of it.

Here are the pros and cons of the wheel lock as I see them (and your impressions, of course, might differ):

Pros:
. It's useful as an extra lock, for those who like elaborate lock-up jobs.
. It's useful if you're sitting in an outdoor cafe or a park bench, with your bike within sight.
. It's better than nothing if you forget your main lock.
. It's better than nothing if there is no structure to which you could lock your bike.
. If you live in an extremely safe area, you might be able to use it as your only lock - which would eliminate the need for a bulky U-lock or cable lock.

Cons:
. Its theft prevention effectiveness is limited.
. It is heavy (like having a U-lock permanently attached to your bike).
. If it jams in the "on" position, your bike will be immobilised.
. Some models are difficult to use and can hurt your fingers while you fiddle with the lever.
. Once installed, you must lock it every time you leave your bike. Otherwise someone else could lock it and walk off with the key. On most models, it is impossible to remove the key in the un-locked position.
. You can break a spoke if you forget that the lock is activated and try to forcibly roll your bike. Likewise, a passer-by can break a spoke if they try to give your locked wheel a spin with their hand.

Do you have a wheel lock on your bike? If yes, what make and model, and have you found it useful?

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Misadventures in the Thaw

As you may have inferred from the dearth of personal posts and new pictures, there has not been a great deal of cycling lately. But suddenly, yesterday: a thaw. A cursory glance outside suggested that the streets had somewhat cleared of snow, and so I eagerly dragged out the bike. But what was meant to be a productive day, became instead a frazzled misadventure.

Liberated from the heaps of snow under which it's sat for over a month, my entire street now looks like it's being dug for trenches. I am amazed that this could happen over the course of a single winter, especially since they'd just recently repaved it. There is barely a foot of road where the asphalt is not broken, and it's nearly impossible to cycle through what is essentially one big ditch.

Soon I was on the main road, which has bike lanes in both directions. That is the bike lane in the picture above. When the blizzards were in full force, it was understandable that the bike lanes were not cleared. The whole town was covered in yards of snow, and I don't think bike lanes deserve special treatment compared to traffic lanes and sidewalks. But they do deserve equal treatment, and for the past couple of weeks they have not been getting it, as far as I can see. Everything except for the bike lanes is now cleared.

After a couple of swerves and dodges, I decided to get out of the bike lane altogether and cycle on the road. The drivers thought I was insane. Apparently, they are no longer sympathetic to cyclists being in the traffic lane, because the conditions aren't harsh enough to evoke the "winter weather mode of politeness." I got a couple of "what are you doing??" gestures through rolled down windows, and my feeble attempts to point at the slush and ice in the bike lane elicited only blank stares. The bike lane looked fine to them - at least fine enough to make it no longer acceptable for me to be out in the traffic lane. After this happened a couple of times, I gave in. I didn't want to be right. I just wanted to get where I needed to go without arguing with every third car that passed me. So I got back in the bike lane. And that's when it happened: My first near-accident.

I don't have pictures of what the spot looked like, but it was similar to the watery area you see behind the bike here. I was cycling along a more or less clear portion of the bike lane, when suddenly I approached what looked like water with some slushy edging to it. It was getting dark at this point, and I considered that the water might in fact be covering a layer of ice. But by the time this thought entered my mind, I had a choice to either brake suddenly, swerve around it, or go through it. Looking over my shoulder, there was no room to swerve. And braking seemed like a bad idea in that particular spot. So I went through it. There was indeed ice underneath the water, and the bike's reaction surprised me. It did not slide out from underneath me or flip over upon hitting the ice, but remained upright while "skating" in a zig-zag, much like a car would on an icy road. Incredibly, I kept my balance and tried to contain the zig-zagging within the bike lane, as there was a steady flow of cars to my left. It seemed to me that this went on forever, but in all likelihood it was probably over in less than 10 seconds. I looked back afterward, and the ice-watery stretch was a quarter of a block long. I feel comfortable classifying that as a safety hazard.

I don't mind admitting that the experience left me a bit shaken, and I decided to turn back before reaching my intended destination. I switched on my lights and cycled on the road again, not caring whom I was inconveniencing and how they chose to express that. Then I stopped by a shop near my house to get some olives.

Not having taken my pannier along, I put the olives in a paper bag and secured the package via "rat-trap" - which made me think about rack design again. It is surprising to me that the Gazelle rack, which is rated for a huge amount of weight, has no provisions for bungee cord attachment. I don't really trust these rat trap thingies. I also have mixed feelings about "cafe locks." They are heavy, they are not always easy to use, and you can hurt your fingers if they get in the way of the lever popping back up when the lock is released - which is exactly what happened after my olive purchase.

I arrived home without further incident, albeit trailing olive brine from the rat trap having pressed into the container. A notification of a missed package greeted me with a malicious grin, as I removed the leaking packet from my bike rack and prepared to drag the Gazelle up the stairs. A productive afternoon it was not.

But surely there are lessons to be learned from this. The lure of the first thaw is not to be trusted? Water-covered ice is more treacherous than packed snow? Don't let drivers bully you into a bike lane that you feel is unsafe? Yes, all of those certainly seem to fit, but somehow I don't feel a whole lot wiser after the experience. What exactly am I supposed to do next time, cycle on the road and be shouted at the whole way? Or stay off the bike until the city finally decides to clear the sides of the roads? Neither is an appealing option.

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The 'Lady's Bicycle': Descriptive, Offensive, or Merely Obsolete?

[an unsuccessful attempt at parody]

There has been some discussion lately about how appropriate it is to refer to diamond and step-through frame bicycles as men's and ladies' bikes. After all - gender roles are flexible these days, women are no longer expected to wear elaborate skirts, and a low standover height can be convenient for everyone. So why use gender specific terminology? Am I just intentionally being quaint?

Well, not exactly. You see, when a bicycle model exists in both diamond frame and step-through designs, the latter is usually not just about lowering the standover height. It is also about taking the female anatomy into account. For example, have a look at the pictures below and see whether you notice anything interesting.

[image via Gazelle USA]

These are the Oma and Opa versions of the current production Gazelle Toer Populair bicycles. If you look closely, you will notice that the Oma on the left has a considerably higher headtube than the Opa on the right. This is done in order to set the Oma's handlebars higher, so as to accommodate the typically shorter torsos and arms of female cyclists. The bikes are named "Grandma and Grandpa," because they are, in fact, gender-specific. The expanded headtube tactic is used by many manufacturers on their step-through models, while others use the alternative tactic of shortening the virtual top tube. Either way, more often than not the step-through version of a given bicycle model is designed for the female body. This is not to say that men cannot or should not ride step through frames, but only that step-through frames are typically optimised for female proportions.

Of course, one could ask: Why confound gender-based anatomical differences with preferences for standover height? After all, some women may prefer diamond frames, while some men may prefer step-throughs. That is where statistics and market research come in. Most manufacturers cannot afford to make two versions of diamond frames and two versions of step-through frames within the same model. And statistically, women are considerably more likely to wear skirts and are thus more likely to prefer a step-through transportation bike. Therefore, it makes more sense to optimise the step-through design for the female anatomy, while optimising the diamond frame design for the male anatomy. Naturally, there will be some females who prefer the diamond frame and some males who prefer the step-through. Furthermore, not every woman has a short torso and not every man has a long torso. But when it comes to manufacturing decisions, it's all about tendencies and probabilities - not about individuals.

And speaking of statistics, perhaps we could indulge in another poll (a weekly tradition?). No purpose for this other than my own curiosity, and possibly yours:




In my own vocabulary, I use terms like "lady's bike" or "woman's frame" when I am referring specifically to the bicycle's suitability for females - be it anatomically, or in terms of their ability to accommodate skirts. On the other hand, I use terms such as "step through," "loop frame," and "mixte," when I am describing frame geometry. And while some worry that referring to bicycles as "women's bikes" makes them seem inferior or less valuable, I am not on board with that line of thinking. After all, what is considered "standard" frame geometry in the industry, is in fact optimised for the male anatomy. We are female, we are wonderful, and we need bicycles designed for us. To me, that is neither offensive nor obsolete - it's just common sense.

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Stop, Look Around...

All the walking I've been doing lately on account of the weather has made me pay even closer attention to my surroundings than I do while cycling. Everything looks different in the snow - elegant and magical. The thin patch of woods near my house has turned into a majestic white forest worthy of a 19th century Scandinavian painting. It's as if the sky was squeezed straight out of a tube of cerulean blue and the austere vertical strokes of the trees were applied with a pallet knife. It's not my style, but I am certain this scene has been painted many times. It's archetypal.

Upon emerging from the pristine wonderland, I came face to face with this. Literally: It was located at face level, and in my willingness to submerge myself so fully in my daydream, I nearly walked into it.

The city is using excavators to facilitate snow removal, as the plows alone are not enough. The effect is interesting, making the neighbourhood look like an igloo construction zone. In order to clear the center of the roads, the excavator dumps more and more snow to the sides - creating monstrous, densely packed snowbanks that line the streets like the walls of some arctic city-state.

Walking on the sidewalk is a surreal experience. You are essentially in a tunnel - with buildings on one side, igloo wall on the other. Along some stretches, the snowbanks are taller than the average human height, so as a pedestrian I can only see the sidewalk in front of me and not the road to the side of me.

Those "Do Not Enter" and "Except Bicycles" signs are for a one-way side street that has a bike lane going in the direction against traffic. For most of last winter the lane looked like this. How cute that I complained about it then: This year it's been swallowed up by the snow banks entirely.

It is not uncommon to encounter bicycles "buried alive." There were actually three separate bicycles inside this snowbank.

Less common is the sight of a bicycle being ridden - but it happens, especially on the heavily salted main roads. Note how the yellow crosswalk sign, its reflection in the puddle, and the golden light of the setting sun play off the colours in the cyclist's knitted hat - all of it especially noticeable against the white, snowy backdrop. Somehow, everything seems to be reminding me of a painting these days. Certainly this person and his hat deserve to be painted.

It's been over a month and a half now without the car. We signed up for zipcar through the Co-Habitant's work, but have not used it yet. And ironically, the blizzards are making it easier to do without: With the roads as bad as they are, we wouldn't have been traveling to any photoshoots up North anyway, and so we don't feel as if not having our car is keeping us from accomplishing anything. We'll get the car fixed as it gets closer to Spring. But for now, it's been remarkably easy to just forget about that thing and for us both to get around entirely on foot and bike. And with so many snow days, I am rediscovering walking - which I appreciate for making me stop, look around, and see my neighborhood in a new light.

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