Yearning for a Lovely Bicycle

Before all of this began, I had not been on a bicycle since my teenage years in the 1990s. Back then, my trusty beat up bike felt simply like an extension of my body -- I rode it everywhere, wearing anything I wanted. Riding did not require any special preparations. The bike was easy to operate and it gave me a sense of independence.



[image: from an advert of Triumph Cycles, early 1900's]



Somehow in adulthood, things became different. It seemed impossible to simply buy an attractive, comfortable bicycle and ride it. There was a bike culture, where cycling was positioned as a formalised, athletic, and often political act. This culture has done a great deal to keep me away from bicycles.



My associations with bicycles from seeing them ridden in American cities includedhunched-over postures, blotchy, sweat-stained facescommunicating a curious combination of misery and self-righteousness,commitment to a wardrobe of lycra or t-shirts with anti-car slogans, andconstant risk of collisions with motor vehicles... none of which appealed to me. Combined with the bicycles themselves - aggressive, awkward monstrosities that I wouldn't begin to know how to physically negotiate -bike culture was not something I found compatible with my ideas of dignity and aesthetics. If it were possible to ride a bicycle with grace and without the need to sacrifice my personal tastes - perhaps I might want one again. But what I had seen on the streets and in bike shops was not encouraging.



[image from http://sellwoodcycle.com]

Only on vintage posters and in old art films did I see the bicycle portrayed in a manner that made me long to cycle again. The relaxed style exuded by the fictional ladies of yore was alluring and enticing; it made cycling seem feasible. But did such bicycles still exist in today's world?





On a sunny Spring day in Somerville, Massachusetts, I found my answer. Chained casually to a parking meter, it was the first bicycle I had seen on the city streets that I would describe as lovely. It had a beautifully shaped ladies' frame and gracefully curved handlebars. It was fitted with all sorts of fascinating components including a chain cover and a basket rack. It was decorated with flowers.



I jotted down the name: Gazelle, and did some research. And suddenly, an entire new world had opened up: a world of relaxed-style urban bicycles that are very much in production today using the same traditional design elements that I so admired on the vintage posters. These bicycles were most definitely lovely, and I immediately began my search for one to call my own.

Cork It or Cloth It?

When it comes to wrapping handlebars, the typical options are cloth tape and cork tape. And my impression is that many, if not most, cyclists today consider cork tape to be more comfortable. On the surface this makes sense: cork is softer, and gripping something soft ought to feel better than gripping something hard.

However, I generally prefer cloth tape. This tends to surprise people, but here is my reasoning: I feel that the softness of cork tape can be counterproductive, because it necessitates a tighter grip. When I ride a bike with cork handlebar tape it initially feels cushy, but over time I notice that the cushiness is making me grip tighter and my hands grow tired from the exertion. Because cloth tape is firmer, it allows my hands to relax and I am not perpetually squeezing.



Of course, in order for the firmness of cloth tape to work in one's favour, the handlebars must feel comfortable to begin with. The handlebars on my vintage Trek(first picture) have a weird squared-off (rather than tubular) shape to them, which my hands refuse to conform to. So until I can afford better handlebars on that bike, I am using cork tape to disguise the square shape.



Similarly, I always had some form of cork tape or grips on the vintage Motobecane mixte I used to own, because its aggressive geometry would place too much pressure on my hands.



But once I managed to slacken the seat tube angle (with the help of a swept back seat post) and improve the hand position with the Belleville handlebars, holding the bars finally became comfortable and cloth tape felt better than cork.



This makes me wonder whether the prevalence of cork tape we see today could generally be a symptom of uncomfortable positioning. Are more cyclists choosing cork tape because their position places too much weight on their hands? And furthermore, has this somehow become normalised in what is now considered "proper bike fit"?



A number of times now, I have been approached by other cyclists and asked how I "can stand" having my handlebars wrapped in cloth tape, as well as how I manage to cycle without padded gloves. Don't my hands hurt? Well, no. I feel no pressure on my hands, so the bar tape is really just there to provide a pleasant surface texture to the handlebars, rather than to "fix" any discomfort issues. Since cork tape is fairly new, I wonder what those who have been cycling since "back in the day" think about the cloth vs cork issue.

The Death of Joseph A. Joslin :: 1919

Joseph's certificate of death was obtained from the Health Department in Plymouth, Marshall County, Indiana back in May ... Even then, they would not make a copy of the actual entry. I requested a "genealogy copy" so, thankfully, on the back of the death certificate she typed the "additional information" that wasn't included on the face of the certificate.



Information from the front of the certificate:

Joseph A. Joslin died June 21, 1919 at Plymouth, Indiana. He was 86 years old at the time of his death. Cause of death was Chronic Colonietis and Senility. It was signed by L. D. Eley, M.D. He was buried June 23, 1919 in the Bremen Cemetery by J. L. Bunnell, Undertaker. The record was filed on June 23, 1919. Certificate No. 1662 recorded in Book CH-30 Page 113.

Additional information typed on the back by the Clerk

Date of Birth - Sept. 11, no year given in Ohio
Retired farmer
No father listed
Mother - Abigail Goodrich

==+====+==

So, here we have it, finally! Something that definitely connects him directly with his parents, though only his mother's name is given. At least it is something!

Joseph's obituary, published on June 26, 1919 in The Weekly Republican, Plymouth, Indiana does not give the names of his parents but does say that he was born in Delaware County, Ohio:

Joseph J. Joslin, aged 86 years, died at the home of his daughter, Mrs. J.W. Burger, 220 N. Walnut street, this city, at 4:20 Saturday morning after a week's illness. Mr. Joslin was born in Delaware county, Ohio but for several years has lived on a farm near Lapaz. He is survived by four children, Mrs. J.W. Burger of Plymouth; Mrs. Seymour Kanaar, of Lowell, Ind.; Mrs. Silas Wener of Bremen, and Delbert Joslin who lives on the old homestead near Lapaz. The funeral was held in Lapaz Monday afternoon, at 1:30, and burial was in the Bremen cemetery.

His obituary was also published in the Plymouth Weekly Democrat on June 26, 1919:

James [sic] J. Joslyn died Saturday morning at 4:20 o'clock at the home of J. W. Burger, corner of Walnut and Washington streets, aged over eighty years. He came here from Lapaz and was making his home with the family and was the father of Mrs. Burger. He had been sick for more than a week. The funeral was held at Lapaz Monday at 1:30 p.m. and the body was taken to Bremen for burial.

It's odd that in most other records I've found for Joseph his middle initial is shown as "A" and not "J" as in the two obituaries.

Carradice Barley: a Lovely Saddlebag

Carradice bags have been made in England since the 1930s using traditional designs and methods. The bags in the traditional series are hand-sewn, with the name of the person who made each bag written on an inside label. Ours were made by Christine. I find the Carradice Barley ideal for daily use, because it is classic, attractive, durable, compact, and versatile.



Classic and Attractive

When buying a classic bicycle or restoring a vintage one, it is difficult to find a suitable saddlebag. The timeless elegance of the Carradice Barley makes it perfect for this purpose. With its traditional construction and subdued colour schemes (available in black or olive-green), it is beautifully understated. The Barley looks as great on a sleek and minimalist diamond-frame roadbike, as it does on an exuberant loop-frame lady's bike, as it does on a mixte. It will match any frame colour and will complement any set-up without overwhelming it. It does not sag when empty, and does not bulge when overstuffed.



Durable

The bag is made of strong, waterproof cotton duck with leather straps and reinforcements, a light wooden attachment plank under the lid, and a protective double layer of cotton duck on the bottom. The materials and craftsmanship are of high quality.



Compact

One thing I love about the Barley, is that it is small enough to use as a daily saddlebag without feeling bulky or looking like you are touring, and at the same time it is extremely roomy. The smallest saddlebag from Carradice's traditional "Originals" line, it measures 8" vertically, 8" horizontally, and 16" across including pockets -- and has a 7 liter capacity. (If you are looking for a larger bag, the next steps up are the Nelson and the Nelson Longflap; those are for proper touring.)



Inside the bag as pictured on this photo, I have: a rolled-up cable lock, a rain poncho, a saddle-cover, a hat, a cardigan, a pair of flip-flops, sunscreen, baby powder, bandaging tape, a paperback book, an apple, a small bottle of mineral water, 2 small packets of peanut butter, a digital camera, a set of keys, and a mobile phone. The side pockets are especially convenient for storing the mobile phone and camera when I am on my roadbike (which has no front basket) for easy access without getting off the bike. A small waterbottle and candybar will fit in the pockets as well.



Versatile

The Barley allows two different attachment methods (the photo above shows them both). If your saddle is adjusted fairly low and you have a rear rack, you can install the bag so that it sits horizontally on your rack. To do this, the leather straps at the top are connected to the bag loops at the back of the saddle, and the strap on the bottom is connected to the rack.



Here is the attachment to the bag-loops at the back of the saddle.



And here is the attachment to the rack.



If your saddle is raised fairly high and/or if you do not have a rear rack, the bag can also be installed at an angle, where the top straps connect to the bag-loops at the back of the saddle, and the bottom strap wraps around the seating post, as shown on the photo above. The bag is designed to accommodate either method and looks great either way.



Drawbacks?

My only cautionary note, is that the light attachment loop (the black strip of material under the Carradice logo) is awkwardly placed: When the bag is installed in the horizontal position, it points too far up, while in the angled position, it points too far down. So instead, we attach our tail light to the leather placket above the black loop. That serves as the perfect attachment point; the angle is just right.



Where to Buy

You can also buy online from a variety of shopsor fromCarradice directly. Stock can be limited at times, but hunting these bags down is worth the effort.

Christmas rains bring drytooling ambitions

Christmas day Slammed the local ice. The 40+ degreees and rain were devastating. The ice delaminated, the locked in tundra turned to mush. All bad things! Well as a last minute plan, Joel Toretti who had planned a trip to VT for the weekend, bagged the idea of heading north for the rainfest. So we made the best of the warm 40+ degrees for some drytool training. Joel, Laura and I met and decided to head to Ohiopyle for some picking and scratching. We first made a trip to the Upper Meadow amphitheater to look at the steeeep cave feature. We managed to get about halfway up one of the lines to the right side. Quite a bit loose rock to be found. Very steep and pumpy, we each took 2 burns on the new line. It still awaits an ascent. After our attempts at Upper Meadow, we went downstream to Lower. We all three tooled around on the various lines, Anger Management, Season Finale and var., we also rigged up the overhang to the left of Season Finale. Which is a short but stout technical route that Joel and I managed to get up. It was Laura's first day out after taking an illness absence for several days. She climbed well with her most impressive showing on the left Var to Season Finale. All in all it was a great day out in unreal "ice" conditions. The 10 day forcast looks very promising and should have the ice lines firmed back up to a climbable state. The annual New Years Climbing Resolution should have ice this year. We'll wait and see.

Balloon Fiesta

The Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta is in full swing, or should I say flying high. It is held every year in October. This year my two aunts, ages 80 and 78 came to visit us and other friends and relatives in New Mexico and wanted to go to the fiesta. I had not been for a number of years and decided it would be fun so off we went to see the balloons. On the weekends the balloons do what is called a mass ascension, and during the week they have different kinds of competitions. There is also, balloon glows on some evenings, and a special shape rodeo when the odd shaped balloons are featured. In this photos are mostly the normal or regular shaped balloons. Some are up and flying while others are just rising.

Scott School in Troy Township

On the back of the postcard photo above is written “Jane Brubaker 4/3/1914 My School. Wyland Herrold Teacher.”
Jane would turn 11 years old on April 14th, 1914. She is on the right side of the middle row, the little girl with the black bow in her hair. Her brother, William Hale Brubaker, is the young fellow with the white shirt and tie in the front row, in front of Jane. He was 9 years old on February 22nd, 1914. My grandmother would have been 12 years old at the time so should be in the picture also but for some reason she isn't. The family was living at the Goose Lake Farm, in Troy Township, at the time. The school was about 2 miles from the farm. The Scott School was closed in the spring of 1920.
The pictures below were taken in August ...

A Walk in the Woods, a Day at the Races

It felt like one of those dream states where worlds collide and everything is mixed together. 80 degree heat in October. A supposedly obscure bicycle race with ball game-sized crowds. Roads closed, cheering heard from a mile away. But most disorienting was the warped sense of time and place.It was Saturday morning, and I was walking through the woods where I'd spent practically all my free time as a teenager many years ago. I had not set foot there in over a decade, but my rote memory remained intact. My feet did the walking along the still-familiar trails until finally I found myself in a clearing, facing that wacky neoclassical structure that now served as the podium for theProvidence Cyclocross Festival. No matter how much I tried to incorporate this fact into my narrative of "the woods" of my teenage years, it just did not compute. Worlds, past and present, were colliding.







They say that when you visit places from your younger years everything is smaller than you remembered, but the opposite was the case here. The clearing was more spacious than I recalled. The trees looked taller. The race course was enormous and complicated. They told me Cross Vegas was a bigger deal than any other race I was likely to see, but as a spectator I disagree. This was huge. There was more going on. And in the daylight I could see it all a lot better.






Part of the course followed the lake, with the riders backlit picturesquely as they cycled along the shimmering water.






Another part wound its way through a pine grove, beautiful trees and tight turns everywhere.






The requisite bridge.






The stretch of paved road leading up to the start/finish.






And of course the exciting parts with the obstacles and the steep hills.






But aside from the race course itself, there were many pockets of public space where spectators and racers could stroll around, socialise, eat, watch.






A bouncy-house was set up for kids.





There were multiple food vendors.






And the beer tent offered some of the best seats in the house (though they wouldn't serve me as I didn't have my driver's license!).





Finally, there were tents with handmade bicycles from local builders on display, as well as a tent selling interesting vintage bikes.






It was easy to see why the Festival was attractive for so many: It simply offered a nice way to spend a day in the park, around nature and bikes. There was no charge for admission, and food and drink were reasonably priced. The turnout was impressive, and with the sun out people stuck around all day - some watching the races, others simply walking around, talking, picnicking. I never expected to see a bicycling event in the US with such a large public turnout, let alone in my former neck of the woods.






In her bookMud, Snow, and Cyclocross (available at the Ride Studio Cafe to purchase or read inhouse), Molly Hurford contrasts cyclocross spectator culture in Europe with that in the US. The main difference is that at American races, until very recently spectators were largely made up of participants. Amateurs would race, then stick around for the elite races that would take place later. Elite racers would show up early and watch the amateurs. And while friends and families would come and watch as well, the events have nonetheless been mostly insular, with no expectation of engaging the general public. In Europe, on the other hand, cyclocross has for some time been a spectator sport on a grand scale, much like baseball or football in the US. At that level, it would be ridiculous to suggest that one has to be a participant or know one personally in order to enjoy watching the event. It is entertainment. Hurford points out that at the moment, cyclocross in the US seems to be on the cusp of potentially transitioning to the type of status it holds in Europe. The audience I saw in Providence on Saturday certainly supported this possibility.






Listening to some of the conversations around me, it was clear that a substantial chunk of the public had no direct connection to cyclocross. They stopped by because they read about the event in the local paper's weekend listings. Or else their neighbour or co-worker was going and they tagged along. Probably because I had a big camera, I was approached on multiple occasions and asked questions about the event by spectators who were there for the first time and weren't sure what they were looking at. But despite not understanding what was going on around them, these visitors were obviously having a good time. They were sticking around. They were supporting the vendors. They were looking at all the bike and equipment manufacturers' names with interest. And they were saying "good job" to the racers. I wonder how many of them had a good enough time that they will seek out other races after this one. I can see it happening.






With attendance high and not limited to cyclocross inner circles, sponsors enjoy greater visibility. And if you look at the sponsors whose names are displayed on the team kits, many of them are outside the bicycle industry: real estate agencies, lawyers, dentists, grocery stores, landscaping firms. Greater attendance by the general public directly benefits these businesses, which makes it worth their while to continue - and hopefully expand - their sponsorship programs. It will also make other businesses consider cycling sponsorship as a viable form of local advertising.






I think about things like this, because quite a few of my friends and acquaintances race, and there is a lot of discontent about how difficult it is to attract sponsors. But the reality is that sponsorship is a form of advertising, not a charity or a merit scholarship. A business needs to believe that a cyclist will provide sufficient visibility for their brand to make it worth their while to sponsor them. And for that we need wider audiences and greater media attention - even if it's just grassroots media - people taking pictures of the riders in their kits, then posting them online and sharing via social media.






Getting back to the idea of US cyclocross being in a place where it can potentially break out into the mainstream, one thing I noted in Molly Hurford's book is that by far not all of her interviewees wanted that. Some expressed disdain toward the fact that in Europe there are "fat guys smoking cigars" showing up to the races, as well as others who are not into the sport at a participant level. These critics would prefer that cyclocross in the US remain insular, "pure." It would be a valid point of view ...ifthose very same people then did not turn around and complain about lack of sponsorship opportunities. You can't have it both ways.






Why do I care about any of this, you might be asking yourself? Well, because as a spectator I am finding cyclocross immensely entertaining, and I appreciate that. Entertainment is a big deal. We need to sustain those who entertain us if we want the fun to continue.






Watching a cyclocross race in a place that I had filed away as belonging to a past life - separated from all this crazy bicycle stuff by at least a couple of other past lives - has challenged my tendency to compartmentalise things, to break up the past into distinct, locked memory boxes. Things do come around full circle sometimes. It's like following a trail in the woods, and eventually finding that you've walked around a lake. And now here you are, in the same spot where you first stood twenty years ago, straddling your rusty mountain bike in front of the Temple to Music. "You can totally race cross on a mountain bike," says a teenage girl to her friend behind me, as I stand there lost in thought.