Bicycle Diaries

11.11.11

2011-11-21T14:14:00.000-06:00

A bastard finally caught

2011-05-27T06:17:00.000-05:00

and another
has a new cellmate!

Serbian President Boris Tadić confirmed during a news conference in Belgrade that Hague fugitive Ratko Mladić has been arrested.

It's been a long, long time...

2011-05-26T16:02:00.004-05:00

and so much
has been happening!

a new bike

a new marriage

and
a whole new spring

Rilke, Tolstoy, and travel...

2010-02-18T06:33:00.000-06:00

your house is just
this side of great distances

Of course this has to do with bikes and books ... but first, I figure about half of you out there use Internet Explorer to view Bicycle Diaries. Microsoft's nefarious product doesn't load it very well. It often center justifies the posts putting the right sidebar all the way down to the bottom of the page. Try instead Mozilla Firefox as your browser. It's FREE, only taking a few minutes to load. It also has a great reputation in contrast to the Windows-based Explorer.

Someone who wants to run Windows on servers should first be made to show what they know about servers that Google, Yahoo and Amazon don't know.
Paul Graham

You'll not only see my blog as I intend it to be viewed. You and your computer will both be very happy. Firefox is more secure against viruses and hackers as well as less buggy than Explorer.

Speaking of explorers, I've been wanting to post one of my favorite poems about travel.

Entering

Whoever you are: step out in the evening
from your room where all is known to you;
your house is just this side of great distances:
whoever you are.
With your eyes which, exhausted,
barely free themselves from the worn threshold,
you raise up, slowly, a black tree
and place it against the sky: slender, alone.
And you've made the world. And it is vast
and like a word which ripens still in silence.
And as your will begins to grasp its meaning,
your eyes release it gently.

In 1900 Rainer Maria Rilke, a rather restless traveler, sought refuge with Leo Tolstoy at his ancestral estate, Yasnaya Polyana. Rilke, only 25 years old, already had an impressive array of publications to his credit. Unfortunately, this had done almost nothing to help his anxieties about writing. He shared them Tolstoy; later describing their conversation in a letter to friend,

I still lack the discipline, the being able to work, and the being compelled to work, for which I have longed for years. Do I lack the strength? Is my will sick? Is it the dream in me that hinders all action? Days go by and sometimes I hear life going. And still nothing has happened, still there is nothing real about me . . . .

To which Tolstoy gave a completely unexpected response. With neither sympathy nor pity, he simply said, Write!

Tolstoy could have easily said, bike! At the age of 67, he started teaching himself to ride. Visitors to Yasnaya often commented rather humorously on the sight of the aging anarchist rolling around his estate. Tolstoy was as brief in his response to them as he had been to Rilke.

I feel that I am entitled to my share of lightheartedness and there is nothing wrong with enjoying one's self simply, like a boy.

their passions a quotation

2010-02-16T05:48:00.000-06:00

w/apologies
to Oscar Wilde

As I hit the mid-February dull-drums, I've been turning my head towards spring with a little restoration project. It's not only keeping me from self-medicating the darkness away in my local neighborhood joint. There's nothing like scouring several decades worth of rust off steel rims for ruminating about the vélotariat.

Why do researchers who've never been on Critical Mass write as if it just popped out of nowhere on the streets of America?
Why do they typically recycle masser statements about the anarchy and celebration without ever going deeper beneath the surface?
And why do they never explain the mass's staying power, now in it's second decade and spreading around the world?

In other words, where the hell did the mass come from and where the hell is it going?

The simple answer is that Critical Mass began in 1992 in San Francisco. Seven years later, it appeared in Chicago. Most academic research concludes that it's the anarchistic step-child of the aging hippies and student protesters of the 60s. That's usually where it ends.

Although a good start, refusing to go further ignores the rich history of bike activism both during and after the heyday of counter-culture America. In Chicago, Keith Kingbay was bugging Mayor Daley the Elder for bike lanes which first went in the early 1970s. Hippy longhair? Wild-eyed radical? Not in the least: Keith was the Cycling Activities Director for the Schwinn Bicycle Company and member of President Nixons's Council on Physical Fitness.

So where to go from here? On to Humboldt Park. Lula's was getting ready for the dinner rush. I decamped to the Black Beetle Bar & Grill in Humboldt Park. There I discovered an obscure (to Americans at least) Parisian group that gave the May 1968 student revolt its intellectual uhmpf. And quite surprisingly, Kingbay seems to have been familiar with many of their essays.

Led by Guy Debord, The Situationists came down hard on Western society. France had finally emerged from the poverty and despair of the post-WWII period. Rebuilding war-ravaged cities and villages was almost complete. Unemployment was virtually non-existent. Under De Gaulle, France was a serious US Cold War partner. The baby-boom generation was flooding the universities ... and it was bored, angry, and primed for action.

In contrast to today's conservative revisions of history, the Situationists were much more than a group of spoiled middle class kids. The French were in Algeria. The Soviets were in Czechoslovakia. The US was in Viet Nam. Countries in Africa and Latin America were struggling for national independence or true sovereignty from former colonial masters. Western governments, as well as the traditional opposition parties that did little real opposing, demanded loyalty, rather than questions, from their supporters. They specifically demanded young people to Sois Jeune et Tais Tois, or Be young and shut up.

It was a mistake to say the least. In this grossly patronizing atmosphere, youthful opposition to foreign policy quickly grew into an overall critique of Western society. Like the revolutionary movements of the 1920s and 1930s the Situationists focused on the power of capitalism, propped up by the state, to overwhelm individual freedom. Unlike their predecessors who sought to revolutionize politics, they sought to revolutionize life itself.

Raoul Vaneigem, in The Revolution of Everyday Life, observed that poverty in modern Western society went deeper than simple economic depravation. Social conventions, reinforced by political institutions and an all-encompassing media, compelled individuals to not only consume but what to consume and how. Locked in this daily routine of consumption, life was futile, barren, and dull.

The history of our times calls to mind those Walt Disney characters who rush madly over the edge of a cliff without seeing it, so that the power of their imagination keeps them suspended in mid-air; but as soon as they look down and see where they are, they fall.

What does this have to do with Critical Mass? The creative, spontaneous, and joyful potential of the human imagination was crushed everywhere in Western societies especially on the very streets of its large cities. Well before the San Fancisco Critical Mass, Debord highlighted the subtle connections between what he called the Spectacle of modern life and the automobile. In fact, his nine Situationist Theses on Traffic reads as if it were a Critical Mass manifesto.

1. A mistake made by all the city planners is to consider the private automobile (and its by-products, such as the motorcycle) as essentially a means of transportation. In reality, it is the most notable material symbol of the notion of happiness that developed capitalism tends to spread throughout the society. The automobile is at the center of this general propaganda, both as supreme good of an alienated life and as essential product of the capitalist market: It is generally being said this year that American economic prosperity is soon going to depend on the success of the slogan "Two cars per family."

2. Commuting time, as Le Corbusier rightly noted, is a surplus labor which correspondingly reduces the amount of "free" time.

3. We must replace travel as an adjunct to work with travel as a pleasure.

4. To want to redesign architecture to accord with the needs of the present massive and parasitical existence of private automobiles reflects the most unrealistic misapprehension of where the real problems lie. Instead, architecture must be transformed to accord with the whole development of the society, criticizing all the transitory values linked to obsolete forms of social relationships (in the first rank of which is the family).

5. Even if, during a transitional period, we temporarily accept a rigid division between work zones and residence zones, we must at least envisage a third sphere: that of life itself (the sphere of freedom and leisure — the essence of life). Unitary urbanism acknowledges no boundaries; it aims to form an integrated human milieu in which separations such as work/leisure or public/private will finally be dissolved. But before this is possible, the minimum action of unitary urbanism is to extend the terrain of play to all desirable constructions. This terrain will be at the level of complexity of an old city.

6. It is not a matter of opposing the automobile as an evil in itself. It is its extreme concentration in the cities that has led to the negation of its function. Urbanism should certainly not ignore the automobile, but even less should it accept it as its central theme. It should reckon on gradually phasing it out. In any case, we can envision the banning of auto traffic from the central areas of certain new complexes, as well as from a few old cities.

7. Those who believe that the automobile is eternal are not thinking, even from a strictly technological standpoint, of other future forms of transportation. For example, certain models of one-man helicopters currently being tested by the US Army will probably have spread to the general public within twenty years.

8. The breaking up of the dialectic of the human milieu in favor of automobiles (the projected freeways in Paris will entail the demolition of thousands of houses and apartments although the housing crisis is continually worsening) masks its irrationality under pseudopractical justifications. But it is practically necessary only in the context of a specific social set-up. Those who believe that the particulars of the problem are permanent want in fact to believe in the permanence of the present society.

9. Revolutionary urbanists will not limit their concern to the circulation of things, or to the circulation of human beings trapped in a world of things. They will try to break these topological chains, paving the way with their experiments for a human journey through authentic life.

That to which we should all aspire

2010-02-12T06:30:00.000-06:00

roll long
and prosper

From the Daily Mail on-line:

It was six decades ago that Owen Hook fell in love with the shining bicycle in his local department store window. But today, the Raleigh push bike is still going strong. Mr Hook, 72, who paid for the top-of-the-range, three-speed Raleigh bike in 36 monthly installments of just ten shillings (50p) 57 years ago, said yesterday that it showcased British craftsmanship at its best.

You have to love pedestrians...

2010-01-30T05:42:00.004-06:00

Pedestrians make up
the greater part of humanity.

And so begins The Little Golden Calf (Золотой телёнок or Zolotoy telyonok) by Soviet authors Ilya Ilf and Evgeny Petrov. A new English translation of the 1931 book, by Konstantin Gurevich and Helen Anderson, is getting a lot of enthusiastic reviews. When I went looking for it, I came upon another, but incomplete, translation by Maciej Ceglowski and Peter V. Gadjokov. The novel's hilarious and, much to my surprise, rather apropos to this humble blog. The opening pages continue with a clever, trenchant comparison of pedestrians and cagers!

... The best part, no less. Pedestrians created the world. It was they who built the cities, raised skyscrapers, laid sewage and water lines, paved the streets and lit them with electric lights. It was they who spread civilization throughout the world, invented movable type, thought up gunpowder, flung bridges across rivers, deciphered Egyptian hieroglyphs, introduced the safety razor, abolished the slave trade and established that soybeans can be used to prepare 114 tasty, nutritious dishes.

And when everything was ready, when our home planet had taken on a comparatively comfortable form, the drivers appeared.

We should note that the automobile was also invented by pedestrians. But drivers somehow instantly forgot about that. They started running over the peaceful, intelligent pedestrians. They took over the streets the pedestrians had created. The pavement doubled in width, the sidewalks narrowed to the size of a tobacco pouch, and pedestrians had to start pressing themselves against the walls of buildings in fear.

Pedestrians in the big city lead a martyr’s life. A kind of transportation ghetto has been created for them. They are only permitted to cross the streets at pedestrian crossings, that is, in precisely those places where traffic is the heaviest and where it is easiest to sever the hair by which a pedestrian’s life usually hangs.

In our expansive country, the ordinary automobile—designed by pedestrians for the transportation of goods and people—has taken on the terrifying outlines of a fratricidal missile. It mows down rows of union members and their families. And if a pedestrian somehow manages to escape from under the car’s silver nose, he is fined by police for violating the rules of the traffic catechesis.

And in general, the authority of the pedestrian has been rather severely shaken. Having given the world such notable persons as Horace, Boyle, Mariotte, Lobachevsky, Gutenberg, and Anatole France, he must now go the most undignified lengths simply to remind the world of his existence. Oh God, oh great God who does not actually exist, what have you brought the pedestrian to?

A smashing success!

2010-01-29T05:43:00.001-06:00

Saturday,
23 January 2010

The BBC's
Cozy Hearth Tweed Ride
from Aaron Bussey
on Vimeo

Dead certainties...

2010-01-28T05:26:00.003-06:00

in the Amazon Basin

I just finished reading a fascinating book lent to me by a drinking buddy. The Lost City of Z: A Tale of Deadly Obsession in the Amazon, by New Yorker writer David Grann, is actually a tale of two obsessive journeys, separated by nearly a century, to the same place in the Amazon jungles. The first concerns the repeated attempts of Col. Percy Harrison Fawcett to find material evidence for a lost civilization, or El Dorado, in the Green Deserts. The other involves the author trying to find what happened to Fawcett and two others after they disappeared on there in 1925. After going to the region where Fawcett was last reported, Grann simply ends his narrative. It's the most surprising thing that's ever happened to me as a reader. We'll never know what happened to the early 2oth Century British explorer - FULL STOP.

His death as well as those of his son and son's best friend are certain. The cause (as in who or what did them in) will forever be uncertain, particularly as it is disputed by those tribes who continue to claim the best of hospitable intentions while accusing the others of deceitful murder. What is certain at the end, however, is that Fawcett was onto something. Today's anthropologists and archaeologists have discovered mounting evidence of ancient, complex civilisations in Amazon. Perhaps that's the better epitaph for Fawcett. He was right. Everyone else ... wrong.

We'll all be dead one day anyway.

Let your tweed flag fly!

2010-01-26T06:25:00.002-06:00

on the Cozy Hearth
Tweed Ride...

Once again, the Central Committee of the BBC chose an unseasonably warm day to gather together nearly 40 ladies & gentleman for a fab tour of the Windy City's posh fireplace pubs. As always there were a lot of new punters who joined last Saturday; but a lot of cheery ole' timers and Ocean Pearls as well. We also had a journalism student along to vid the first stop at Jack's Bar & Grill on Southport just below Lincoln.

The growing interest in our little collective reminds of an article that appeared in The Spectator a few weeks back. It so often happens on the opposite shores of the Atlantic. The Brits despair over the passing of a well-worn tradition just their American cousins herald its rebirth. This time around it's the demise of that dowdy English fashion sense: the threadbare, genteel poverty so valued by the upper classes since the late 18th Century. Harry Mount writes,

The idea was born that it should always take a few seconds to notice if someone is well-dressed. Nobody who was really smart wanted to appear so — that would be ostentatious. Enter those frayed shirt collars, jumpers with the elbows gone, battered chintz rather than fresh new seat covers.

The usefulness of things, no matter how old or time-worn, is what mattered. But now both the masses and classes of Merry Olde are in the thrall of the new, the minimal, and the modern. Think of London's Millennium Wheel and Beetham Tower, both representing the UK's squeaky clean embrace of the 21st Century.

For the first time in history we live in a civilisation where, the richer you are, the fewer things you have, and the newer, cleaner and more stripped-down those things must be.

When I read this I looked around the genial clutter of my apartment and realized that shabby chic is indeed alive and well in this colonial outpost. It's even catching on among the punters on Madison Avenue. Back in November last year, The New York Times described the new wave of hipsters giving up their skinny jeans for tweed trousers and spotty t-shirts for high-lapel vests. And here our Tweed Rides are attracting more bikers than the venerable Midnight Marauders.

Perhaps it has something to do with George Bernard Shaw's observation that England and America are two countries separated by a common language.

Passeo Guernika

2010-01-12T05:06:00.001-06:00

journey of discovery
Part II

I wrote, back in November, about my new journey of discovery in the Boricua neighborhoods of the West Side. My intention was to start a series of posts focusing on interesting things I discover on my daily commute to and from my new job at North Avenue & Rockwell.

My first discovery, so far, is this community mural along the viaduct at Rockwell & Bloomingdale. I have no idea who or what organization might've painted it but it's a beautiful adaptation of one of my favorite Picasso paintings, Guernika. I first viewed the original in Madrid at the Museo del Prado about eight years ago.

All along the wall opposite Guernika there is long and wide, light blue smudge about three feet from the floor. When I asked a guard what it was, he replied wryly smiling, blue jeans. It seems that so many people lean their asses against it, lost in contemplation, that they've left a faint, collective reminder of their awe. I won't belabor Guernika's history or meaning here. There are plenty of links that already do that quite well. Suffice it say, I appreciate the personal connection it creates with my new neighborhood .

Bike community 2.0

2010-01-10T05:37:00.002-06:00

the rise of
the vélosphère

A major facet of my nostalgie de décennie in The Windy City has been comparing my life in 1999 to that of 2010; especially the differences. Perhaps the biggest is the subtle change in the bike community here. When I did my first Critical Mass in May 06 I was aware of only a few bike groups. There were organized clubs like UIC's College of Cycling and the Chicago Cycling Club. More underground groups included The Rat Patrol and our city's chapter of the Scallywags. Then there were the more informal groupings, organized around regular monthly or annual rides. The Midnight Marauders and Santa Cycle Rampage come to mind. All were supported by a diverse range of bike shops and co-ops; the most famous being Working Bikes.

I even tried my hand at organizing The Square Wheelmen. My efforts, beyond a nifty graphic and some bike caps given to friends, didn't get that far. It didn't fail as much as sputter because nobody but me got the connection between Lincoln SQUARE (my 'hood) and a none-to-subtle anti-hipster dig. Also, it may've had something to do with the lack of a proper website. Blogs I could do in 06 - HTML was still a mystery. Perhaps things would've been different if I'd had a social networking platform like the one that appeared a year ago: The Chainlink. Since its inception, nearly 3,000 bikers have started and joined over 100 groups. And like in 06, they're spread along a wide spectrum of themes, rides, issues, self-help, and the just plain silly...

What really fascinates me is that I'm not all that sure if The Chainlink promoted this blossoming of Bike Community 2.0 or is merely a reflection of it. Either way, it's definitely a fact that the city is a far richer place for our idiosyncratic bikers than when I first moved here!

10 Years of Chicago BikeWinter

2010-01-07T05:29:00.000-06:00

by the
numbers

Total Seasonal Snowfall
in inches...

1999-2000
30.3
(with 11.1 on 18 Feb 2000)

2000-2001
39.2

2001-2002
31.1
(with 12 between 30-31 Jan 2002)

2002-2003
28.6

2003-2004
24.8

2004-2005
39.4
(with 11.2 between 21-23 Jan 2005 )

2005-2006
26.0

2006-2007
35.6

2007-2008
60.3

2008-2009
52.7

South Side Ride

2010-01-06T07:20:00.002-06:00

and a surprise
3 mins, 36 secs in...

from Aaron Bussey
on Vimeo

Happy New Year!

2010-01-04T06:13:00.001-06:00

some
thoughts

It took me a while to realize two things about 2010. It not only marks the start of a new decade. It marks my first ten years in The Windy City! When I first got here I wasn't planning on staying that long. I had come with enough baggage to sink the Titanic. I had just given up on academe. I was newly divorced and a typical 1st post-divorce relationship was typically imploding. I wasn't all that sure where my future was going. The drift didn't bother me all that much though. This was the first big city I had ever lived in. I had a great job with enough money to enjoy the night life here. I travelled overseas for work quite a bit. I got to see India, China, Eastern Europe, and even Central Asia. These were certainly enough distractions to keep me occupied as one year became three. Then I found another job then another and the 1st three years became ten...

Slowly; almost too slowly for me to notice, I stopped drifting. I became rooted in my neighborhood - I've lived in the same apartment over the last decade. I made friends - perhaps the closest I've ever had. I came to think of this place as my home - perhaps for the first time since I moved away from the home of my awkward adolescence in Upstate New York. In a word, I think I've become a Chicagoan...

South Side Sledding

2009-12-31T05:09:00.000-06:00

gravity's
a bitch!

What a better way to celebrate the arrival of BikeWinter as well as the New Year but with a bit of sledding? On Monday a bunch of us headed down to join this month's South Side Ride. Of course gravity and a slippery slope can and will conspire against you at the end of the run ... especially if there's a fence waiting for you!

Darkness...

2009-12-28T05:50:00.006-06:00

the cure?

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day

Lord Byron

Merry Xmas!

2009-12-25T05:32:00.001-06:00

another vid from
the Vulgar Lad

Tweed in the 21st Century!

2009-12-24T06:10:00.000-06:00

by the
Vulgar Lad

Let it snow!

2009-12-20T05:47:00.001-06:00

and thanks to
The Capitol Fax Blog
for this!

On 28 December 1953, Windy City kids were introduced to the whimsical story of Suzy Snowflake "tap, tap, tappin'" on every windowpane, seen on Garfield Goose and Friends then on WBBM-TV. Suzy too was brought to life by the stop-motion animators of Centaur Productions. Norma Zimmer was Suzy's voice and the song was sung by The Norman Luboff Choir, a premier studio group who recorded with well-known artists, such as Frank Sinatra and Harry Belafonte.

Bike with a little extra somethin'

2009-12-17T05:09:00.001-06:00

whether you
like it or not!

From
Chicago Craigslist...

A new bike adventure

2009-12-15T05:58:00.004-06:00

gone but
not forgotten!

Today marks my last official day of work until September 1, 2010. It was a balmy September afternoon when I sprung the idea of an eight month sabbatical on my boss as we biked back to the office from a downtown meeting. She was reluctant but willing to listen. I presented a detailed plan for how my duties could be carried out during the proposed leave. I would like to think my well thought out proposal convinced her to agree, but the prospect of forgoing most of my salary in the upcoming tight budget year probably played a role as well.

So writes Michael Burton, fellow biker and the guy who got me my new gig at Bickerdike. He, his wife Gin and son Miguel are all on their way to join another scion of The Windy City's bike community, Jim Redd at his Eco-Hacienda in Ecuador!

Both Jim and Michael were rather influential in getting me into the bike community; the former by his example and the latter by his enthusiasms. Even though he and his family will be returning, it's sad to see them go. It marks yet another small generational turn among those who've made biking here fun. On the other hand though, their departure on a new adventure is hardly surprising. Having contributed to the ballet of the streets for nearly a decade, I think they've earned it. Besides, it's time for some others to influence the folks coming up ...

Michael, Gin & Co.
Good Luck & Bummel On!!!

Cities for Cycling

2009-12-14T06:39:00.000-06:00

think national
build local!

The National Association of City Transportation Officials just launched this new project to share best practices on developing and maintaining world-class bicycle transportation systems. As cities and towns increasingly pioneer new designs it will assist local officials by promoting state-of-the-art innovations that ensure safe traffic conditions for all modes of transportation!

Heels on wheels

2009-12-10T05:43:00.000-06:00

Beauty and the Bike

Directed by Richard Grassick and Beatrix Wupperman, the film follows a group of English teen girls from Darlington as they rediscover cycling via an exchange programme with German teen girls from Bremen. They trial a bike pool made up of Dutch-style sit up and beg town bikes.

Pierogi cult?

2009-12-09T05:24:00.006-06:00

a timely
warning

Many of you, my exceptional readers, know that my best friend here in The Windy City is Pierogi John. But that relationship has taken a serious turn of late. His growing popularity at our Annual Polka Rides has created such a groundswell that he know has his own cult, err ... group, over on Chainlink. Unfortunately, his well intentioned though blinkered followers don't know him as I do. He has an uncanny, if not evil, ability to be in the wrong place at the right time. I humbly submit my evidence. You decide ...

Dallas
24 November 1963

Jerusalem
31 AD

Germany
1946

World Series
2003

New Jersey
1937

Shoppers Beware...

2009-12-08T05:46:00.002-06:00

cycling Santas
are coming
to town!

The Windy City's Annual Santa Cycle Rampage
Plows into Tenth Year

The tenth anniversary Santa Cycle Rampage will roll out from Twisted Spoke Bar and Grill at noon on Saturday, 12 December 2009. Several dozen cycling Santas will make their way toward the magnificent mile in a boisterous, spirited procession, and descend on holiday shoppers in a blitz of toasted holiday cheer to remind one and all of the joy of human‐powered travel. The Santa Cycle Rampage is an annual event promoted by Chicago Bike Winter as part of a campaign to promote the bicycle as year‐round transportation.

According to Martin Hazard, 2010 Bikewinter co‐chair, the ride is intended not to befuddle bystanders, but to send a clear message that one does not need to buy a large, expensive, emissions‐heavy vehicle in order to tank up for the holidays. Hazard reports that, under the influence of the Chicago Santa Cycle Rampage, other cities such as Milwaukee have wasted no time in starting their own Santa Cycle Rampages, and that this year’s ride has been carefully tweaked in order to make sure its message is hammered home to holiday shoppers.

Participants will meet at 11 A.M. at the start venue to slop up for the ride; anyone with a working bike and a Santa suit is welcome to participate. In past years rogue Dreidels, Elves, and Reindeer have also ridden along.

Contacts/info: Chair@bikewinter.org
773/710‐4143
www.bikewinter.org/events/rampage

Tour de Farce

2009-12-07T06:04:00.004-06:00

by
Stoney Emshwiller

I agree with your comment 'bout bad cycling clothes
(Frankly I'd rather wear pink panty hose).
Please design bike-wear both aero and chic.
(And helmets that don't bring out everyone's geek).

As for bikers and stop signs: I do sympathize
But, indulge for a sec in this mind exercise:
Suppose when your Yugo was brought to a stop
you had to unclip from the brake pedal's top
throw open your door, slam your foot on the ground --
Wouldn't you tend to instead just slow down?

I know it's not right, but lets cool the grandstanding.
Not asking forgiveness -- just more understanding.
Illegal on sidewalks, un-welcome on streets,
urban biking is not the most stress-free of feats.
If I had a nickel for every close shave
with some cell-talking douche in a big Escalade . . .

Don't forget that for every damn bike you see out there
there is one less Corolla polluting the air.
One less commuter car riding your ass,
and one less fat dude in your gym's spinning class

So please give a break to us crazy bike riders.
It's scary as shit sharing streets with you drivers.
If you stubbornly want to play chicken instead,
Note: Your car might get scuffed, but we bikers get dead.

Back in the land of the living...

2009-12-06T06:10:00.001-06:00

and time for a nap!

The annual report is done. The annual meeting is over. The fundraising cycle is finished. And I've passed my 3-month probationary period at the new job! Here comes health insurance, business cards, and keys to the building. Time to rest then get back to my bikey lifestyle, including this blog. The winter is shaping up to ba long one; cold and dark. I want to send The Steel Bitch off for a powder-coating ... something in a navy blue or dark maroon. I'm giving it a rest after 5 years as my commuter bike and restoring it for next year's 3speed Tour. So I'll put Mike Bullis's Robin Hood together for my new commuter. Given the temps, I figure I'll have to covert my home office into a bike shop!

Space cowboy?

2009-11-30T06:12:00.001-06:00

a little
Thanksgiving blessing!!!

I did my usual Thanksgiving dinner in Ohio on UffdaDave's farm. Sharing my love for all things Firefly, his son, Nate, turned me on to this wonderful snippet from Castle. It's the show Nathan Fillion landed in after playing Mel in Firefly! I just love how he drops into character ...

Full Moon Fiasco XII

2009-11-29T05:54:00.001-06:00

Silent Night...
My Ass!!!

Whether snow, sleet, rain, flood, or just cold as shit:

Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Gannon's Pub @8pm

Though sometimes late, we never cancel a ride.

Disraeli Gears

2009-11-24T05:38:00.000-06:00

cycledelia

This second album by British blues-rock group Cream was released in November 1967. It reached 5the place on the UK record charts. It was also incredibly popular in the States, becoming a massive seller in 1968 and reaching 4th on the American charts. It features the two singles Strange Brew and Sunshine of Your Love. But its title is based on an inside joke between Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker.

They were discussing Clapton's idea of buying a racing bike when a roadie, Mick Turner, commented, it's got them Disraeli Gears. What he actually meant was derailleur gears rather than the 19th Century British Prime Minister, Benjamin Disraeli. Both thought this was hilarious, deciding to make it the title of the band's next album. Had it not been for Mick, it would simply have been entitled Cream.

Journey of discovery

2009-11-23T05:25:00.000-06:00

just 6 miles
from home

A few weeks back, Roger Cohen wrote about The Big Apple's local peculiarities in his NYTimes op-ed column. He pointed out something that I've also noticed about The Windy City. You only have to go a few blocks in any direction and the city completely changes both in terms of culture and economics. I've been aware of this lately because og my shift in work from the high-rise Loop to the low-rent near North Side. Cohen experienced the same thing when the NYTimes moved its Times Square offices a couple of blocks southwest into the Garment District. As he describes it,

The former headquarters was trapped in the neon tentacles of Times Square, a once seedy part of town re-imagined as the tourist-filled set for a movie called “New York,” a place where people from out of town loiter six-abreast gazing at the flashing lights while New Yorkers try to dodge the phalanxes of flesh.

The new premises, as I’ve gradually learned, placed us just within the garment district, an area where zoning laws have protected apparel manufacturing space and so held off the developers who would otherwise have turned clothes factories into condos and created yet another gentrified district bereft of seediness, tawdriness, community and that strange high-low alchemy essential to any great city’s mystery and charge.

Unlike Cohen's, my new digs are defined less by industry than by ethnicity. It's the heart of the city's Puerto Rican communities which are generally much poorer than my former workplace just off North Michigan Avenue. However, like Cohen's Garment District, it's an incredibly vibrant area, despite carrying more of the weight of our current economic crisis.

It's an area I knew little about beyond the usual fears and prejudices of your typical Northsider. To be frank the first few weeks were a shock. I take regular smoke-breaks along the street next to our building. Most of the buildings opposite are abandoned or inevitably for rent. There's a city ordinance sign on the corner reminding me and my fellow citizens that its illegal to solicit prostitution in public (I guess then it's OK in-doors?).

But like I said, much of my initial shock resulted from being in a strange, new part of a very large, diverse city. I've started to discover all kinds of hidden, fascinating facets. Hopefully, I'll be able to write more about this as the months go by. For now, I've got to finish this year's Annual Report.

The ingenious velocipedeans

2009-11-22T06:38:00.001-06:00

Chicago Salute
with guns

30 October 1914: England's The Guardian reports on the latest developments in military technology. Mr. Cook Wilson, Moral Philosophy Professor at Oxford, highlights the advantages of cyclist troops. To me it sounds rather similar to the masser ritual here in The Windy City. To wit:

One officer who loves cavalry work was bitterly disappointed at the futility of employing cavalry against these cyclist troops. If attached in large numbers, the cyclists simply throw their machines in the middle of the road, where the spokes and wheels make a perfect obstacle to charging horses. The riders then take shelter in hedges and pick off their struggling mass.

It's about the lycra

2009-11-16T05:56:00.000-06:00

not the
commute

Magda Szubansk, a comedienne from Down Under, caught a whole lot of guff from bikers after her rant against lycra-louts last September. To be quite frank, I agree with her up to the point where she starts calling for cagers to run them off the road. Fortunately, she realized that she'd gone over the top and apologised. But aren't the streets, everywhere in the world, dangerous enough without ramping up the rhetoric?

Tweed hits the big time!

2009-11-14T05:38:00.000-06:00

and in a paper
of note, no less...

The NYTimes mentions Beer, Bicycles, and Brits, though I wouldn't call us the New Victorians.

This flamboyance is part of a curious new movement called Tweed Rides, informal gatherings of spiffily dressed ladies and gents cycling leisurely through town and disdaining finish lines. Tweed Rides began in London earlier this year and have spread this fall to Boston, San Francisco and Chicago. As the directions for this weekend’s Tweed Ride in Washington, D.C., put it: “Leave the fleece, Lycra and outer shell at home. This ride is for the dandy.”

Bike panache?

2009-11-12T05:44:00.002-06:00

'nuff sed...

Originally posted by Tina Roth Eisenberg over at Swissmiss, her NYC-based design blog and studio.

Two minutes of silence...

2009-11-11T11:00:00.000-06:00

for their sacrifice

It's Veteran's Day here in Lincoln Square. It's 55 degrees and sunny with a few puffy clouds. Anyone doing a little shopping near the corner of Western and Leland won't miss the neighborhood's ongoing memorial to our soldiers killed in Iraq. The Chicago Printmakers Collaborative has been putting these pictures in the upper windows of their building since August 2004.

The memorial is very powerful because you can't possibly avoid the pictures. You can see them if you bike north on the east side of Western Ave. You can see them if you're waiting for a citybound train on the platform of the Brownline station. When the pictures started going up there there was only enough space for 648 pictures. Now the windows on each of the three floors are completely covered. And as of last Thursday, the total number of our soldiers killed in Iraq has reached 2464.

Each time I pass it I'm reminded of two relatives who died in WWII. Robert Klippel, my mother's brother, flew P-51s out of Iwo Jima in 1945. This photo was taken a few days before he shipped out to the Pacific. On 1 June 1945, a little over two months before Japan surrendered, he flew escort for the B-29s called up on a last minute bombing mission. Before they reached their targets over Osaka, a tsunami engulfed the planes. Only a few ever returned.

My uncle was one of the unlucky ones. He and his plane were never found. In 1946 his Missing in Action status was changed to Killed in Action.

Some of his friends who survived visited my mother's family soon after the war. They said that the last time they saw his plane it was trying to climb out over the storm. Years later I got my hands on the afteraction peport from a veterans' organization. It states that this mission was the largest loss of life and equipment in the Pacific Theater.

The other relative on my mother's side of the family, Frederick Klippel, was killed in the European Theater. As you can probably tell from the photo here (he's the one with the canteen), Frederick served in the German Wehrmacht. In 1942, his infantry reserve batallion arrived in western Ukraine to consolidate the huge gains made by the German invasion of the Soviet Union the previous year. He was killed by Russian artillery fire on 12 February 1943.

As as a young boy, every time we visited my grandmother she would show us Robert's Army Air Corps insignia and medals. The stuff was always cool to look at; in fact, I've had a bit of an obsession with this uncle who had died 17 years before I was born. Thanks to the web, I've done a lot of research on his squadron and fighter group. A couple of years ago, I even made contact with the veterans from the figher group. But they were in different squadrons and didn't remember my uncle.

It wasn't until I was an adult, many years later, that I realized that Robert's death had torn the heart out of my mother's family. My grandmother firmly believed that he was still alive somewhere on Pacific island or in Japan. Her eldest daughter, my aunt, started to suffer from bipolar disorder at the end of the war. And my mother still can't talk about my uncle with getting extremely emotional.

As for Frederick's family, I don't really know how much his death has affected them. I've never met them myself. I didn't even know they or Frederick existed until I googled Klippel. One of the results was a Klippel geneaology posted by a distant cousin who lives on Stanton Island. Since then I've visited him several times. Just like with my grandmother, we look at the pictures and documents he got in Germany when he visited Frederick's family.

But I do know that once a soldier's ghost sits down at the dinner table it doesn't ever really go away. The one that started sitting with my mother's family in 1945 now sits with me as well as with my cousins and their children. This is why those 648 faces staring out of the windows of the Chicago Printmakers Collaborative have become an important part of my bike travels along Western Ave.

Today there are too many ghosts sitting at dinner tables or in backyards or on porches and decks around Chicago and the country.

Burning Guido Fawkes

2009-11-10T06:30:00.005-06:00

...the tweedy way!

The Guido Fawkes' Bonfire Tweed Rid e was a rousing success last Saturday. Thirty tweedy lads and lassies made it all the way down to Bubbly Dynamics outside Bridgeport. Special thanks to Viscount Wallace for organizing the route and Clan Lloyd for hosting the bonfire. Folks had suggested a November ride so we could wear the full tweed monty without sweating our arses off. But true to style, the weather was unseasonably warm ... perhaps we'll do our next ride in March to force a thaw!

Me & Viscount Wallace
by Heather

Me & Bob
by Allan

A lot of civilians took favorable note of our procession. This from Chainlink Chicago:

This afternoon my friend and I were sitting in a window seat at the Irkosium Cafe on Clark and Foster when my friend said: "Look, there's a guy on a bike who's dressed like Sherlock Holmes!" Before I could turn my head to look he said, "Wow, there's another one." Then the whole posse cycling by.

"Oh, that's a tweed ride," I told him.

"A what?" he asked.

He was impressed that I knew what it was all about.

You all looked very natty biking down Clark Street.

Lovely Lauren certainly thought
it was pithy success
by Aaron

Our honoured guest!
(thanks to Allan)

Burning the bastard!
by Sarah

The fall

2009-11-09T05:52:00.004-06:00

20 years ago
today

the joke's (still) on you
Uncle Joe!

(Stalin is captured in this photograph by Lt. Gen. Nikolai Vlasik, the Soviet dictator's bodyguard. Vlasik's off-the-record photos of Stalin caused a sensation in the early 1960s when an enterprising Soviet journalist spirited some out, selling them to newspapers and magazines worldwide.)

and our piece of the wall
in Lincoln Square

Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive,
but to be young was very heaven.

William Wordsworth
on the French Revolution

Chicago seen

2009-11-05T05:46:00.001-06:00

really seen
by Vivian Maier

She looks rather dour, this French immigrant who came to the States sometime before WWII. After a brief stint in The Big Apple, she settled in Oak Park, working as a nanny for a solidly Windy City, suburban family. Her immigrant story would've remained rather ordinary if it weren't for her photographic work (consisting of 20,000 negatives and about a thousand rolls of undeveloped film with 12-14 images on each) and John Maloof who bought it at a local estate sale. You can see here what he's gleaned from the vast collection. And you can read the story here of his attempts to meet her; she died days before he finally discovered her whereabouts, and then his efforts to discover who she actually was.

Though her life's details are spare, I think you can get a sense for Vivian from the sheer humanity (and sometimes humor) of her photography. It also reminds me that once upon a time, not all that long ago, The City of Big Shoulders was mostly working class folks little more than a generation removed from The Old Country.

She definitely had the eye for the great contradictions of our Prairie Metropolis. The photos of monumental buildings always include the human beings they supposedly served. More often then not, the foucs is tight, filling the scene with on the margins of successful, rich America in the 1950s and 1960s: the kids, the black maids, the bums flaked out on shop stoops.

It's a shame her artistry lived in obscurity. When I showed Vivian's photos to a co-worker here at Bickerdike, she mentioned that they would have made wonderful visuals for Studs Terkel's Division Street. As he wrote,

The nomadic, transient nature of contemporary life has made diffusion the order – or disorder – of the city….I guess I was seeking some balance in the wildlife of the city as Rachel Carson sought it in nature.

Bicycle wheels

2009-11-04T05:28:00.000-06:00

by
Ugly Kid Joe

Life is to be lived on the positive tip
Never lose the ground
You never gonna slip
If you never lose the ground Always draw the line
Never wear the frown

Should've got myself some bicycle wheels
Should've got myself some bicycle wheels
Should've got myself some bicycle wheels

On the wings of steel
There's dinosaur's in countries
Everyone that I've seen
There's dinosaur's in countries
If you know what I mean
I always keep a watch on the ever changing future

Doing what I want
And you could do what suits you
I said throw your hands in the air
I like to see your armpit hair
Throw your hands in the air
I like to see your armpit hair

Life is to be lived on the positive tip
I'll never lose the ground
You know I'm never gonna slip
Never gonna slip, cause I never lose the ground
Always draw the line
You know I never wear the frown

Shrine of the Vélotariat

2009-11-04T05:23:00.004-06:00

blessing the bike

On 2 November, The Oregonian reported that St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in downtown Portland has

become the nation's first church with a permanent indoor shrine honoring the Madonna del Ghisallo, who is the patron saint of cyclists. An entire section of the 80-year-old wood-and-stone sanctuary will be set aside for bike commuters to contemplate their travels and remember those who have died while cycling.

A painting of the Madonna del Ghisallo (above) by local artist Martin Wolfe will hang above bike parking and a nave where travelers can light candles or sit in reflection.

On the road

2009-11-03T05:11:00.000-06:00

with the original
Working Bikes

I was just listening to Bob Edward's Weekend on Chicago Public Radio Sunday morning. He did a piece on Charles Kuralt's famous TV essays, interviewing his cameraman, Izzy Bleckman. And he mentioned Jethro Mann who back in the early 80s had started fixing bikes for the kids of his town, Belmont, NC. He told Kuralt that it hurt him to grow up without bikes. So he started a bike lending library. His garage was filled with wrecked bikes. The kids were careful to return the bikes every evening, about suppertime. Then he would work on them, sometimes until one or two o'clock in the morning.

Everything you wanted to know about Cricket

2009-10-31T06:21:00.002-05:00

...but were afraid
to rap!

Thanks to San Francisco Tweed, here's the latest track from a new album from the chap-hop sensation. On the mean streets and cricket pitches of Surrey, Mr. B, the Gentleman Rhymer, reveals the strength of his cricket knowledge.

3 cheers for Dutch vélopunk

2009-10-30T06:00:00.002-05:00

five minutes
in heaven

With Stardust Memories
by
Artie Shaw

3 cheers for Dansk vélopunk

2009-10-29T05:46:00.000-05:00

The Voice of the Globe 1937
rolls in Copenhagen

From James A. Fitzpatrick's
Traveltalks

The American documentary film director specialized throughout his career in travel documentaries. Besides directing, he also wrote, produced, and narrated. As well as The Voice of the Globe, MGM distributed a series of his travel films under the umbrella title Fitzpatrick Traveltalks. Paramount also distributed his series, Vistavision Visits. Their hallmarks were Technicolor photography and stolidity.

And you thought computers suck...

2009-10-28T05:15:00.003-05:00

what
about
books?

So one day that old mediator between Good & Evil, the Egyptian god Thoth, invents writing. Up till then, folks just filled up their noggins with pretty much everything. And Thoth proudly offering it as a gift to the Pharaoh of Egypt, claiming it'll be

an elixir of memory and wisdom.

Pharaoh ain't all that impressed. In fact, he's downright horrified, replying,

This invention will induce forgetfulness in the souls of those who have learned it, because they will not need to exercise their memories, being able to rely on what is written…rather than, from within, their own unaided powers to call things to mind.

So it’s not a remedy for memory, but for reminding, that you have discovered. And as for wisdom, you are equipping your pupils with only a semblance of it, not with truth.

Oprah's not famous in Europe

2009-10-26T08:18:00.002-05:00

so the Olympics
won't be in Chicago

As you know, lots have been going on with me over the past few months. I haven't had time to comment of recent events ... like the Windy City's lost bid for the 2016 Olympics. So here's a funny mash-up of Downfall that brings us into the Mayor Bunker to reveal just how disappointing all this has been for The City that Works. Especially hilarious is the line 53 seconds in:

Everyone who has already been indicted for something, leave now.

Remember, remember...

2009-10-24T16:03:00.006-05:00

the 7th of November

Well, it's supposed to be on the 5th when the Brits captured poor Guido, AKA Guy, in the cellars of Parliament. But that's a school night so we're doing it on Saturday, when he finally admitted to The Gun Powder Plot after some extreme interrogation methods. In any case, Viscount Wallace has submitted preliminary details here!

Remember, remember the Fifth of November,
the Gunpowder Treason and Plot,

I see no reason why Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot.
Guy Fawkes, t’was his intent to blow up King and Parliament.

Three score barrels were laid below to prove old England’s overthrow;
By God’s mercy he was catch’d with a dark lantern and lighted match.

Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring.
Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King!

Hip hip hoorah!

A penny loaf to feed the Pope
A farthing o’ cheese to choke him.

A pint of beer to rinse it down.
A faggot of sticks to burn him.

Burn him in a tub of tar.
Burn him like a blazing star.

Burn his body from his head.
Then we’ll say ol’ Pope is dead.

Hip hip hoorah!
Hip hip hoorah hoorah!

Biker killed by truck

2009-10-22T11:03:00.005-05:00

Liza Whitacre
1986 - 2009

Jeremy Gorner reported yesterday on Chicago's Breaking News Center,

A 23-year-old woman died this afternoon after she fell from her bicycle, landed underneath a truck and was run over by the vehicle outside Hamlin Park on Chicago's North Side, police said. The victim, Liza Whitacre, was riding south on Damen Avenue with another cyclist, a 24-year-old woman, when they came across the truck and a CTA bus about 12:30 p.m. The 24-year-old, Whitacre's roommate, was able to travel "between" the two vehicles as Whitacre followed, Chicago police said.

But the victim slipped and fell underneath the truck.

"The truck driver was apparently unaware that the woman had fallen underneath," said Officer John Mirabelli, a police spokesman.

The truck then rode over Whitacre, 23, of the 4900 block of North Winthrop Avenue, and she was pronounced dead at Advocate Illinois Masonic Medical Center, officials said.

The operator of the CTA No. 50 Damen Avenue bus was questioned by police as a potential witness to the crash since the bus was in the "vicinity," said Chicago Transit Authority spokeswoman Wanda Taylor.

She did not know if the operator witnessed the crash, but said no CTA buses were involved in it.

Buses traveling along the Damen route were temporarily rerouted around the accident site, Taylor said.

No citations have been issued in the crash, Mirabelli said early this evening.

I've been remiss...

2009-10-18T11:44:00.011-05:00

but now
I'm back

It's been a hell of a last 9 months or so. Laid off in February, underemployed until just last month. Among other things, the blog has suffered. First it was the general funk that accompanies what became is the worst unemployment experience in my life. I wasn't turned out of my apartment of a decade; nor did I starve. A lot of good, good friends and close acquaintances had my back. Perhaps the depth of our national economic crisis has brought out in the best of folks or maybe after almost 11 years in the same neighborhood I've found my community: I've certainly learned that it takes a village to survive The Great Recession.

Whatever the reason, I did survive. I've back in a full-time job thanks to some very fine folks in the bike community here. It's as the Resource Development Manager for the Bickerdike Redevelopment Corporation. That's a fancy title for grant-writer and all around fund-raiser. Bickerdike is a member-based, non-profit community development corporation that advocates for, builds, and maintains affordable housing in the Latino and African-American neighborhoods on the northwest. That's a big change for all kinds of reasons. But I'm liking both the mission and the organization. It's also exposing to a whole new world in this great, grand city.

Second, nine months is a damned long time. There were days when my own problems coupled with the general mood of the country nearly overwhelmed me. I kept my sanity by riding ... a lot of riding. With a little help from my friends, I put together The 2nd Winston's Tweed Ride on 12 September. A lot of new folks joined us on a Don't Mention the War bummel that ended up at my neighborhood's annual German-American Festival. Get it?

Then a few weeks ago, Sir Aaron heard about a new tweed ride in Grand Rapids, MI. We loaded up the steeds on his cage and headed over for the day! Amanda, the organizer, as well as her small group of tight friends made us very welcome indeed. I don't think we considered the impact two big city gents would make on our country cousins. And let me say, Grand Rapids is a fantastic city. Imagine a slightly smaller version of Milwaukee, with the same turn of the century architecture, surrounded by rolling meadows and gentle hills a few minutes from Lake Michigan. I would seriously consider moving there if the job were right.

Even outside the City of Big Shoulders,
it takes a tweedy village to survive...

9.11.09 & 11.11.1918

2009-09-11T07:18:00.001-05:00

the eleventh day
and the eleventh hour

Today is the 9th anniversary of 9.11. The very fact I don't have to explain these two numbers reflects the enormity of the attacks particularly in how they changed our lives as well as the world around us.

There is another aspect of this enormity. For there are as many meanings of 9.11 (here as well) as there are people who have felt the impact of the attacks over the last seven years. For example, I photographed this painting by Mirshakarov Akmal during a trip to Tajikistan in 2002. It is his response to 9.11. It alone shows that any attempt I could make to capture the meanings of this event would fall woefully short of the mark.

I've decided to let the enormity of 9.11 speak for itself rather than adding to all words that will be written about it today. What little I will add, can be summed by Wilfred Owen, the most famous of the WWI English trench poets. In the Preface to his book, Poems, Owen wrote,

This book is not about heroes.
English Poetry is not yet fit to speak of them.
Nor is it about deeds or lands, nor anything about glory, honour, dominion or power, except War.
Above all, this book is not concerned with Poetry.
The subject of it is War, and the pity of War.
The Poetry is in the pity.
Yet these elegies are not to this generation,
This is in no sense consolatory.

They may be to the next.
All the poet can do to-day is to warn.
That is why the true Poets must be truthful.
If I thought the letter of this book would last,
I might have used proper names; but if the spirit of it survives Prussia, --
my ambition and those names will be content; for they will have
achieved themselves fresher fields than Flanders.

Owen was killed in action on 4 November 1918 during the crossing of the Sambre-Oise Canal, exactly one week (almost to the hour - the eleventh) before the signing of the Armistice. His mother received the telegram informing her of his death on Armistice Day, as the church bells were ringing out in celebration. He is buried at Ors Communal Cemetery.

The proper anti-freeze...

2009-09-08T06:44:00.000-05:00

for Chicago
Bikewinter!

5 year old girl killed...

2009-09-07T08:28:00.002-05:00

by cager
last night

From The Chicago Breaking News Center,

A 5-year-old girl riding her bicycle was struck and killed Sunday evening by a vehicle exiting a West Rogers Park alley, police said.

The girl, Ester Kenig, was riding her bicycle in the 6100 block of North Sacramento Ave. at about 5:30 p.m. when she was struck by the emerging vehicle, police said.

Ester was rushed to St. Francis Hospital in Evanston, where she was later pronounced dead, according to the Cook County medical examiner's office.

The driver, who remained at the scene after the collision, had not received any charges or traffic citations as of late Sunday, police spokeswoman Antoinette Ursitti said.

An autopsy on the girl is scheduled for Monday morning.

Why be conservative?

2009-09-04T05:29:00.002-05:00

why
not?

I don’t have much faith in my fellow man. In fact, my own conservatism has much to do with the fact that I reject the entire notion of human improvement altogether. Grandiose liberal efforts do not work, not because they are simply led by the wrong kind of men, but because they are led by men, period. “Progressivism” is a great idea. But most progressives can’t balance their checkbooks much less create nirvana. “Feminism” sounds swell. Too bad females are most cruel to other women. “Multiculturalism” is well intentioned. Yet it seems every time different cultures cohabitate it creates more friction than friendship.

I’m a mess too ... I’m awful with money, eat poorly, drink too much and don’t spend enough time with friends and family. But then again, most of those same friends and family are guilty of the same flaws and faults.

Jack Hunter
August 09, 2009

Chicago bikewinter approaches

2009-09-03T06:10:00.005-05:00

and with it
our 10th Anniversary

To get things rolling, we're aiming to encourage ALL fair-weather bikers within our propaganda's grasp to stay in the saddle through the longest, coldest nights. We'll meet on Tuesday, 22 September, 7 p.m. at the newer Billy Goat - 309 W. Washington (a nod to BW winter meetings of the past), directly following the One Million Less Cars Rally.

The prodigal queen

2009-08-24T06:03:00.005-05:00

with a little help
from my friends...

...I've found the silver lining in losing that which rolled. As the comments section has shown over the last two weeks, the outpouring of sympathy for my loss is both amazing and gratifying. Enough so that I now have a wonderful replacement.

It might look like the Queen of Scots, my original '53 Lady's Rudge. But it ain't! Now it's The Prodigal Queen. Last May while I was getting the QoS ready for the Lake Pepin 3speed Tour, I discovered that the handlebar stem was seriously bent. With only 48 hours before I headed north I parted most of it out to get that which rolls rolling. It then spent the next few months convalescing on my back porch until I lost its noble brother. The theft, in fact, was a double loss because I didn't have the necessary parts to get it rolling again. And being unemployed, I didn't expect to have it rolling in time for either Winston's DMZV Tweed Ride or The A.B.C.E.

But thanks to Mike Bullis, a fellow 3speed Nutter who lives out near Elgin, I won't be missing either grand gathering. Several days after learning about the theft he emailed me with a wonderful offer: the gift of his 19 inch, '54 Robin Hood, known as The Prodigal Bicycle. It's not only a fitting replacement for my dearly departed '68 Robin Hood.

It comes too with a great story. He's owned it three separate times! He first bought it at the Kane County Flea Market in the mid '80s. Around '96, he sold it to his brother-in-law, who eventually returned it to him in '05. With too many bikes in his garage, Mike loaned it to a local bike shop owner for his Antique Bicycle Display. Then in '08, he was visiting the shop to order some parts. The owner asked him if he wanted it back as he was short on room. Mike replied, Why not?

The Prodigal Bicycle has provided me with everything I needed to revivify the Queen. Its 3speed alloy hub & rim were a particular surprise. I had bought a rather pricey set of rear axle wing-nuts several years ago. But their TPI didn't match my newer hub. Well, they do fit this one! Not only that: the Prodigal came with lovely, chunky, all black rubber tires that, despite their age, are in wonderful condition. They give my new steed the proper commemorative look for a steed that now replaces that which rolls.

I'd also bought a front dyno-bub & rim which, Thank G-d, wasn't on that which rolls although the Lucas Bicycle Lamp was. Again, the Prodigal came to the rescue with a lovely shiny, black Bosch Lamp from Germany. With the expert technical guidance from another local 3speed Nutter, Pirogi John, I successfully wired up the lamp. It's actually the first time it's ever worked and I was able to finish off the entire kit with another pair of axle wing-nuts.

The rest of Mike's Prodigal Bicycle (frame, saddle, drive-train, mudguards, chain-case, and stem set) is safe in my basement locker. I'm going to fully restore it once I'm gainfully employed again. I'm even thinking of making it my year-round commuter bike so I can also restore my '62 Gazelle, Raleigh's precursor to the Robin Hood line. I sincerely hope he approves. When I picked it up last week (thanks to Aaron's handy chauffeur service) Mike said he always thought there was a reason why it kept rolling back to him. I am humbled by his foresight and generosity!

Les bicyclettes...

2009-08-21T06:49:00.001-05:00

de Belsize

Rolling along

2009-08-20T05:49:00.002-05:00

our hobo legacy

One thing you'll notice about the bike community in the City of Big Shoulders is diversity. There are hipster beaterbikes, yuppie spandex-wrapped weekend warriors, Latino ice cream vendors, WASPy commuters, freakbikers, teenage BMXers, and more. Although I haven't seen many South Asians, the streets are a celebration of multi-cultural Chicago.

One group I've begun to notice is what I call The Rollers. They rock! They bike for the sheer joy of the ride, everyday in every kind of weather. Rollers are consummate foxes; or even cats, since they know and do a lot of little things about bikes. You might first think their shared passion for bikes qualifies them as hedgehogs. But the diversity of the bikes themselves as well as values and ideologies is so vast that a hedgehog could never accommodate it all with one big idea.

So rollers aren't necessarily anarchists, unless they want to be. If that label is incorrectly applied by motorists and government authorities, it's because rollers flourish on the edges of American society. Their very existence poses a threat to middle class conformity and this seems to really irritate some motorists.

I've had a number of run-ins with motorists who have shouted insults at me as I rolled along ... LEGALLY. Each time I got the distinct impression that I had gravely wounded their sense of middle class propriety. That I might have rolling rights as a legally recognized slow-moving vehicle didn't seem to enter their minds. They either saw me as a big kid on a toy endangering the streets or selfish hobbiest with more time for leisure pursuits than the harried motorists going to work or shuttling the kids to their doctor appointments.

Such thinking isn't all that surprising. In many ways, rolling against middle class conventions is an old, if odd, American tradition. Rollers are the grandsons and granddaughters of the tramps, loafers, and what the French called flaneurs. They're the sons and daughters of hobos, travellers, vagabonds, and backpackers. They're essentially slackers on two wheels. As such they draw the unwelcome attention of police and politicians as much as did their peculiar ancestors.

When the Depression of 1893 threw millions of men and women out of work they hit the roads. State legislatures, as well as business leaders, around the US reacted with horror and enacted highly stringent laws against these tramps. In a surprising response, Governor L. D. Lewelling defended their rights against arbitrary arrest by local police. His Tramp Circular is not only a astonishing reminder of a time when Kansas was progressive but a wonderful statement of why today we have the right to roll along.

The right to go freely from place to place ... in obedience of a mere whim, is part of that personal liberty guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States to every human being on American soil. If voluntary idleness is not forbidden; if a Diogenes prefer poverty; if a Columbus choose hunger and the discovery of a new race, rather than seek personal comfort by engaging in “some legitimate business,” I am aware of no power in the legislature or in city councils to deny; him the right to seek happiness in his own way, so long as he harms no other, rich or poor; but let simple poverty cease to be a crime.

Not that I'm all that comfortable with labeling rollers, Slackers on Two Wheels. In the wrong mouths, labels can be dangerous. If you think that mere words can't harm, remember that J. Edgar Hoover threw stick and stones at the bones of the rollers' ancestors. During WWI, he was a special agent for the newly formed FBI in charge of Slacker Raids. Agents and civilian vigilantes rounded up foreigners, conscientious objectors, left-leaning idealists, and other outsiders for indefinite detention. Although some were certainly spies and draft-dodgers, most were simply expressing their rights to roll against war hysteria.

Today, rollers, whatever their particular values or ideologies, continue to ride for the right to seek happiness in their own way.

that which rolled

2009-08-14T06:20:00.003-05:00

RIP

The last time I saw that which rolls was Tuesday morning, 11 August. I went out early Tuesday evening. My neighbor and I noticed three teenagers (1 woman and 2 men - not from our neighborhood) hanging around the alley by our fence. The lock on on the alley-side door wasn't working.

You see, I live in a 16 flat, 3 floor building with a common area in the back. It's accessible from the alley and the street with two locked wooden doors. I've installed two bars for locking up bikes on the posts supporting the building's balcony system. They're those bars you find in bathrooms for physically challenged folks. Each is double-screwed to prevent their removal. That which rolls was locked up to one with a cable and U-Lock: U-lock thru front wheel and down tube, cable through back wheel and u-lock. All are gone now...

Robot cars...

2009-08-13T08:03:00.004-05:00

versus
freedom for technology

The Intelligent Life, the quarterly mag of The Economist, has a fascinating article on the automation of cars. In When Drivers Are Passengers Paul Markillie describes the trend toward cars that drive themselves. While he believes that this could make them safer, he has

... a niggling worry that it could make some drivers lazy and less attentive. If your car can park itself, why bother becoming familiar with its dimensions and learning how to manoeuvre it correctly? Why bother braking when the car will do it for you? ... Accidents will happen, and inevitably it will lead to more drivers blaming the car itself.

Isn't this another good argument for biking? Bikes put you smack dab in the middle of the world. Cagers, on the other hand, are dangerously isolated and, increasingly it seems, less free to interact with their surroundings. It's ironic that the great American icon of mobile freedom is slowly being replaced by our low tech alternative.

Bikers behaving badly?

2009-08-10T05:56:00.002-05:00

Boston responds...

Know when to fold 'em!

2009-08-07T05:15:00.000-05:00

Dominic Hargreaves's
The Contortionist...

has been shortlisted for this year's £10,000 James Dyson Award for innovation. The 24-year-old, from Battersea, London, said he wanted to create a decent folding bike after the one he was using collapsed.

I couldn't find a folding bicycle I liked. I wanted something that could take a bit of punishment and that you could have fun with. So I made one myself.

Odes to a bicycle bell

2009-08-06T05:37:00.000-05:00

you only exist
as sound

Thanks to local Pittsburgh artists, Eric "Erok” Boerer and Teresa Foley, you can now have a bike bell ringtone. It's free and according to Erok, I’ve noticed that bike bells tend to bring smiles to people’s faces. No matter what happens, when you ring that bell, people get a kick out of it. It's also the most popular ringtone - 300 downloads and counting - on Foley's new website, Locally Toned. With a $1,000 grant from the Fine Foundation as well as support from other Pittsburgh-based art groups, it offers a great selection of novel ringtones with a local connection that is essentially an experiment in creating public art.

And while your waiting for the ringtone to arrive by text message, check out this simple little ode to the bike bell over at Copenhagenize: The bicycle bell/beams, happy/and round, a little/brain without power:/touch me, please touch/you only exist as sound.

Blood, sweat, and gears

2009-08-05T05:53:00.000-05:00

a modest
proposal

Jeremiah Catalano-Reilly popped the question to Michelle Simon smack dab in the middle of last Friday's Chicago Critical Mass!

Cops on bikes

2009-08-03T07:56:00.002-05:00

Chicago's Finest
training video

Traffic Enforcement for Bicyclist Safety
from the Chicago Bicycle Program
on Vimeo

Keeping your balance

2009-08-02T06:57:00.000-05:00

w/Albert Einstein

Dulce et Decorum Est?

2009-07-31T06:00:00.006-05:00

no, no ...

Over at the BBC, the Today programme asked Poet Laureate, Carol Ann Duffy, to write a poem commemorating yesterday's burial of Henry Allingham. He was the last of the British survivors of The Great War.

The title of this post refers to WWI's most famous poem written by Wilfred Owen. They're the first words of the Latin phrase popularized in an ode by Horace. The words were widely understood and oft quoted at the start of the WWI. They mean It is sweet and right. The full line ending Owen's poem is Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori or it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a great honour to sacrifice yourself for your country. Owen, a British officer, was killed in action at the Battle of the Sambre a week before the war ended, causing news of his death to reach home as the town's church bells declared peace.

UPDATE

George Simmer's Great War Fiction research blog just posted and analyzes Duffy's poem, Last Post:

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If poetry could tell it backwards, true, begin
that moment shrapnel scythed you to the stinking mud . . .
but you get up, amazed, watch bled bad blood
run upwards from the slime into its wounds;
see lines and lines of British boys rewind
back to their trenches, kiss the photographs from home —
mothers, sweethearts, sisters, younger brothers
not entering the story now
to die and die and die.
Dulce — No — Decorum — No — Pro patria mori.
You walk away.
You walk away; drop your gun (fixed bayonet)
like all your mates do too —
Harry, Tommy, Wilfred, Edward, Bert —
and light a cigarette.
There’s coffee in the square,
warm French bread
and all those thousands dead
are shaking dried mud from their hair
and queuing up for home. Freshly alive,
a lad plays Tipperary to the crowd, released
from History; the glistening, healthy horses fit for heroes, kings.
You lean against a wall,
your several million lives still possible
and crammed with love, work, children, talent, English beer, good food.
You see the poet tuck away his pocket-book and smile.
If poetry could truly tell it backwards,
then it would.

The wheel's influence...

2009-07-30T05:54:00.001-05:00

on dinner

This is casual bike wear? It is ... according to an 1896 column that appeared in the London Spectator. According to Megan Gambino, over at The Smithsonian, it seems that the empire's scribbling classes were rather vexed about the bike's subversive power to undermine the three most important pillars of British hegemony: spiffy dressing, dinner, and enlightened conversation.

The phase of the wheel’s influence that strike …most forcibly is, to put it briefly, the abolition of dinner and the advent of lunch….If people can pedal away ten miles or so in the middle of the day to a lunch for which they need no dress, where the talk is haphazard, varied, light, and only too easy; and then glide back in the cool of the afternoon to dine quietly and get early to bed…conversation of the more serious type will tend to go out.

I wonder what these self-appointed guardians of British good taste would've made of Clif Bars and the consequent abolition of even lunch. More interestingly though, I wonder if they would've applauded Vélopunk's revival of snappy togs. Or have we mistakenly overlooked the fact that fastidious Victorians considered breeches, knee socks, ties, and stout tweed jackets to be hopelessly proletarian ... if not pedestrian?

Vélomania

2009-07-27T08:33:00.008-05:00

...what Dalí & Hitler
had in common

Rebecca Seal, over at the UK's Observer, highlights some of the fascinating ways bikes have played a key role in the culture and politics of over a dozen countries. Among some of the more amazing things I didn't know:

Salvador Dalí was a real freaky bike freak.

...had an Italian Bianchi cycle in his studio and said he would have liked "the whole of France" to cycle: "The Tour de France on bicycles produces in me such a persistent satisfaction that my saliva flows in imperceptible but stubborn streams."

Bike lanes had Hitler's blessings.

...Germany pioneered the creation of cycle paths in the 1930s - because the Nazi party wanted cyclists off the roads. By 1936 they had outlawed cycling groups.

Bike in Bolivia at your own peril.

The La Paz-to-Coroico route, dubbed "the world's most dangerous road" with a fatality every two weeks, can be cycled with a tour group called Gravity Bolivia. Descending 3,600 metres steeply from the peaks, the narrow track snakes along the side of the mountains, with a perilous drop to one side.

Pedal to Pierogis

2009-07-25T05:22:00.001-05:00

Whiting, IN turns over
a new pierogi!

We're rolling south of the border today! Pierogi Fest is the one-of-a-kind festival that draws people from all over the Great Lakes. Although it revolves around the simple stuffed dumpling, it’s really a huge three-day celebration of Polish culture. With musical entertainment, kids activities, contests and a parade, there’s more to Pierogi Fest than just pierogies. Of course, you’ll find more pierogies there than you ever thought existed, but you’ll also be entertained and warmed by the hospitality and friendliness that the fest produces.

Bike abuse

2009-07-24T05:18:00.001-05:00

and
cattle mutilations?

Barry Neild wonders aloud in Thursday's Guardian about a worrisome trend in street vandalism. Since returning from the States, he's seen more taco'd rims, slashed tires, and busted lights on London's parked rolling stock. Bike theft is bad enough; but why are some folks sorely temped to take their post-modern angst out on somebody's ride? You might be able to understand the casual abuse of those high-end, composite-framed models favored by the Lyra-clad weekend warrior set. As Barry writes,

...the trend might be dismissed as the cycling equivalent of dragging a bunch of keys across the paintwork of a Porsche: bitter acts of vandalism aimed at punishing the overtly wealthy.

Unfortunately, Lycra Louts aren't the only victims.

...more often than not, the victim is some poor elderly beast replete with industrial chain guard, rusted Sturmey Archer gears and a tragically jaunty child's windmill attached to the handlebars.

Tongue firmly in cheek, this trend reminds him of the horse and cattle mutilations that so electrified UFO enthusiasts, Satan worship worriers, and amateur psychosexual obsessives back in the 1960s. Perhaps though Occam's Razor would be more helpful. Some folks are big, fat douche-bags ... especially when they're drunk!

Driven to distraction

2009-07-23T05:48:00.001-05:00

hands free hazard
Part II

Slate has more on the Feds' refusal to pursue research on the cellphone use of cagers. It goes one step further by exploring possible ways federal agencies have suggested to prevent driving and dialing. They range from the obvious - Stop the vehicle in a safe location that is off the road, well away from traffic, before they receive or place their calls - to the doubtful - Allow a passenger to receive or place calls. How many cagers actually have passengers? And if they do, isn't someone else yacking away next to you just as distracting?

Two other suggestions seem to be equally obtuse.

Mass transit. The most efficient way to let people yap while traveling is to pack them in a vehicle with a single designated driver. That's called public transportation. Transit agencies should take steps to facilitate passenger phone use, such as improving underground transmission. If noise is a problem, agencies can restrict phone use to texting. The important thing is to get phone users out of their cars.

As a frequent mass transit user, I can easily imagine how wonderful it would be surrounded by even more loud cellphone user.

Software. ...some automakers now include a lockout feature to keep drivers from performing complicated tasks—like entering destinations into a car's navigation system—while the vehicle is moving. Maybe phones could be similarly disabled by integrating them with car software.

Don't even get me going on the American obsession with tech fixes; especially when a rather obvious solution already exists. In fact, it's one that goes all the way back to the invention of the telephone. Answering a phone is completely voluntary.When it rings, pings, or plays your favorite iTune you are under no obligation to respond. Isn't that why voice-mail was introduced in the first place???

Rolling along

2009-07-22T06:07:00.001-05:00

solvitur
volubilis

I thought I'd start today's post by brushing up on my high school Latin. I don't think any Roman or Catholic ever said this. My inspiration is a more famous Latin phrase that I've always loved: Solvitur Ambulando.

It is solved by walking was first said by Diogenes the Cynic. It's come to be an appeal to practical experience when confronting any problem. Diogenes believed that pragmatic reason rather than tradition is the only guide for living one's life. If folks don't use reason to guide their conduct it would be better to treat them like animals and lead them on a leash.

Diogenes was considered a royal- pain-in-the-ass by his fellow Greeks. His devotion to practical experience was an overt criticism of the herd mentality of conventional Greek society; so much so that Plato referred to him as a Socrates gone mad. Later, Diogenes Laertius, in his Lives of the Eminent Philosophers, described this approach to life:

Most people, he would say, are so nearly mad that a finger makes all the difference. For if you go along with your middle finger stretched out, some one will think you mad, but, if it’s the little finger, he will not think so.

It should come as no surprise then that I believe that Diogenes's words offer a good guide for rollers. I've been finding all kinds of examples of folks who have solved problems by rolling.

For example, between 1952 and 1953, Willem de Kooning, the Dutch Abstractionist, painted Woman and Bicycle. Art critics generally agree that this painting is an attempt to come to terms with de Kooning's inner conflicts over women. Some even believe that the aggressively angular image of the woman sitting on a bicycle is inspired by Freud's dream theories of sexual repression.

Like de Kooning, Charles Wilson Peale, America's first preeminent artist and all around renaissance man, was fascinated by the possibilities of rolling. He invented his own velocipede, Latin for fast foot, "as a welcome diversion from his arduous painting projects". As David V. Herlihy's writes in his book, Bicycle,

Whenever his back began to ache, he would take a few spins atop his velocipede in the salubrious air of his garden, and return to his easel thoroughly invigorated.

In our own century, many bikers have realized that it is solved by rolling. Setting out from his home in Nepal on 29 November 1998, Pushkar Shah circumnavigated the world over the next eleven years. Why? In 1990, the Nepalese government arrested him for participating in the country's democracy movement. When he was released, Shah decided to spread the message of peace and hope for his country and for the world. This mission was not about material gain or international fame. It was simply about spreading the message of peace.

Whether for peace or future opportunities or relaxation or psychological closure, solvitur volubilis recommends itself because the open road is where anyone can think and reflect on their life and times. Utility is certainly important. Many bike just for that. Nevertheless, it is solved by rolling opens us up to many amazing possibilities.

Hands free hazard

2009-07-21T05:22:00.000-05:00

feds keeps cager
safety data secret

Today's NYTimes reports that the Federal government's National Highway Traffic Safety Administration not only refused a request to research the link between cellphone use and road accidents but chose not to publicize previous research and warnings ... back in 2003! Fortunately, the Center for Auto Safety and Public Citizen filed a successful Freedom of Information Act lawsuit for the agency's findings. And The NYTimes has published the documents here. Some of the more amazing, but not surprising, excerpts from the article include:

The highway safety researchers estimated that cellphone use by drivers caused around 955 fatalities and 240,000 accidents over all in 2002.

...hands-free headsets did not eliminate the serious accident risk. The reason: a cellphone conversation itself, not just holding the phone, takes drivers’ focus off the road, studies showed.

The research mirrors other studies about the dangers of multitasking behind the wheel. Research shows that motorists talking on a phone are four times as likely to crash as other drivers, and are as likely to cause an accident as someone with a .08 blood alcohol content.

“We’re looking at a problem that could be as bad as drunk driving, and the government has covered it up,” said Clarence Ditlow, director of the Center for Auto Safety.

The Eagle has Landed!

2009-07-20T06:12:00.002-05:00

one small step for
Walter Cronkite

And what a difference
40 years would've made...

without him.

Walter Cronkite, biker

2009-07-18T08:06:00.006-05:00

1916-2009

As a boy, he used his bike as a drugstore delivery boy and enjoyed

[t]he usual boyhood/early teen activities...: the Boy Scouts and DeMolay (the junior Masonic order), roller hockey and bicycle polo (except on those hot summer days when our wheels sunk in the goo of Houston's Tarvia streets)...

That got me thinking about Pimp My Mallet, the website for Oxford University bike polo enthusiasts. There's also the article on North American bike polo by Rhiannon Coppin. She's a reporter for The Tyee who played a match in VC/BC (Vancouver) in 2006. Her article, Polo Goes Populist, describes the sport and a bit of its history.

Vancouver-based chopper-cycle builder, bicycle aficionado, and artist RedSara invited this writer to a weekly 11 a.m. bicycle polo match, held every Sunday in good weather on the gravel turf at Vancouver ’s Britannia Community Centre.

Played three or four players per side, cyclists – or rather members of Vancouver ’s cycling community and repair centres – mount their steeds and proceed to whack a street-hockey ball across the field and between one of two hastily-constructed upright goal posts.

The mallets are homemade, constructed from either sawed-off golf clubs or ski poles with hard-plastic tubing or cutting-board cut-outs pinned and duct-taped to the ends. Sometimes frustrating, always challenging, often fun, players finished two games to ten points before they wrapped up another Sunday on the pitch.

There used to be the International Bicycle Polo Federation based in Jaipur, India and Richland, WA. It hosted seven world championships, the last in 2004. Although India dominated most the USA finally won the 7th in VC/BC. Member countries also include Canada, France, Germany, Malaysia, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, and the UK.

Over at the Pimp My Mallet blog, which hasn't been updated in a while, there's a link Mad Bike Polo. It's got a YouTube vid of the 2006 Midwest Bike Polo Championships held in Madison, WI. Chicago hosted it the next year.

Ode to cigarettes redux

2009-07-17T05:01:00.001-05:00

if only he
had a bike

Fixie prix & elegant chix

2009-07-16T09:12:00.007-05:00

at least
they roll!

Something weird is going on with the Vélotariat. The well-trod debates over bike lanes, critical mass etiquette, and proper frame-sizing have given way to a growing rancor towards bike fashions. I'm not talking here about whether you should cover your ride with guerrilla stickers or colorful electrical tape. Rather there's been a fascinating reaction to the clothes in which folks choose to roll. Over at Manolith, a UK-based men's lifestyle site, Yosef Solomon posted 13 Reasons Why the Fixies Fad Should End Now! The usual criticisms of obnoxious attitudes and dicey braking practices take a backseat to fashion posers. As Yusef states:

It seems to be a sad fact that every “underground” fashion scene will inevitably be taken over by pretentious wannabes. The most recent victim of this trend is that of the once-edgy bike messengers. Actual bike messengers are now faced with the decision to either just suck it up and be confused with mobs of posers, or simply change careers ... Since the whole Fixed Gear trend has finally been maxed out on douche, we thought it fitting to call this fad out for what it is.

Meanwhile critics are setting their sights on the fixie prix's more well-heeled colleagues. The Pipeline, for example, recently took aim at The Sartorialist. Created by Scott Schuman, this blog documents high-end street fashionistas in New York, Milan, and Paris. Many of the posts show incredibly elegant chics and gents. In contrast to Manolith, Pipeline seems particularly cranked up over Schuman's choice of purportedly upper middle-class subjects. It even provides a helpful flowchart explaining how you can get Shot by Scot. If you're a man, it helps to be old, rich and European. If you're a woman, be model pretty or wear a quirky hat. Either way a vintage bike will pretty much guarantee you a spot. Slate's Julia Turner, who first mentioned this critique, defends Scott even though ...

Gathered together, his subjects often seem rich and pampered, too many fashionistas wearing the same expensive and unwieldy shoes.

She can't help loving his work because his focus on facial expressions goes behind the togs. Even though his subjects form a limited spectrum, his photos expose joy, wit, and candor. She feels as if she's met these folks before.

If I was a bicycle seat...

2009-07-15T06:08:00.001-05:00

life could be
oh so sweet

When I was a little boy
My momma, she said to me
Son, When you get big grow up
What you wanna be
I said to my momma
Don't wanna be no doctorman
A politician, a movie star
All those things I can
There's one job I'd like to have,
You can never beat
To be bolted to a chrome frame and be a bicycle seat

Life could be oh so sweet
If I was a bicycle seat
Ride, ride limbo treat
sit on me, I'm a bicycle seat
No more hustles, no more deals
No more trying to sneak those wheels
No more cruisin' or cosmic raps
No more staring at ladies laps
No more eyeing little worms
No more chasing after bumms
No more would you like to dance
No more getting in their pants
Everything i really mean
Is riding right to the bumper seat
No more smelling good to waste
With you pressed against my face

Lords of the Ring

2009-07-14T09:07:00.000-05:00

sword swinging,
bike pedaling warriors
avenge the destruction
of their friends bike

Sierra Club gears up

2009-07-11T05:44:00.003-05:00

to hike, bike,
and paddle

The venerable enviro-org has launched a new website, Sierra Club Trails. It's up and running in a beta test now, and they're planning to launch it soon. As far as I know, the site is the first-ever comprehensive hiking wiki where anyone can post their favorite trails for hiking, biking, even water trails for kayaking. Anyone else then can edit the So if I post a route to Milwaukee, anyone who rode it recently can update road conditions, construction, traffic, etc.

It's also an online community where users can create profiles and meet other bikers, hikers, surfers, you name it, and join discussion forums with topics like the best trail mix recipe or whether guns should be allowed in national parks. Community members can form groups around a particular outdoor interest or place. So it features tips for outdoor adventurers alike, a birding blog, photo contests, and Nature Notes, a series of audio features based on interviews with naturalists and Sierra Club Outings leaders.

Tonight's Northside Mass...

2009-07-10T05:51:00.009-05:00

Jason's last
%-{(>

Jason, biking stalwart and all around great guy, is leaving The City of Big Shoulders for the greener, if not more humid, pastures of The Big Easy. He's got a pretty good job offer down there in his hometown. All of us who've got to know him on the Northside Mass, FBC Full Moon Fiasco, Chicago Mass, and Winston's Tweed Ride are going to be sad tonight. Hopefully with cash in his pockets now he'll get some sister rides up and rolling down there. So although he's soon to be gone, he certainly won't be forgotten!

Speed demons

2009-07-09T05:20:00.001-05:00

or how to
kill a biker

Speed Kills is about as obvious as it gets for anyone who commutes daily in big metro areas like our City of Big Shoulders. Last year, The Spokesman posted about Delaware's then new Neighborhood Speeding Campaign. Its central message is brutally honest: if a cager hits you at 20 mph you have a 5% chance of dying. Up the speed to 30 mph and your chance of death goes up to 45%. Pulling no punches, this rather stark mathematics explains why the state sets the speed limit in residential areas at 25 mph. Of course, part of the problem is that the faster cagers go the more distance they need to stop. So I've put the two sets of sobering statistics together.

Cagers going...
20 mph, need 69 feet to stop

If not, bikers have a...
5% chance dying

30 mph, need 123 feet to stop
45% chance of dying

40 mph, need 189 feet to stop
85% chance of dying

North by ...

2009-07-08T07:53:00.000-05:00

by northwest

Vic McDaniel and Ray Francisco, just out of high school, set out from Santa Rosa, CA on second-hand bikes, bound for the great Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition in Seattle. Travelling on dusty roads, roads of logs, of planks, even of corn stalks, and often no roads at all, they pedaled, pushed, and walked a thousand miles north for fifty-four days.

They started out with only $5.65 between them. Camp was wherever, whenever the sun was gone; food was an occasional meal from a kindly farm wife and what they could fish, hunt, or glean. But they learned that all strangers were not kind, not even close. Vic and Ray reported their adventures to their home-town newspaper. And what adventures they had. They traveled paths beside railroad tracks, fought their way around boulders and up brushy hillsides, and crossed rivers layered with salmon.

Evelyn Gibb, daughter of one of the cyclists, has drawn on her father's recollections to tell this incredible adventure in his voice. Winner of the Pacific Northwest Writers Association Nonfiction Book Award, Two Wheels North is a fascinating account of a journey that today we can only dream about--one that finds two boys on the road not only to Seattle, but also to manhood.

Full Moon Fiasco VII

2009-07-07T05:43:00.003-05:00

the FBC
presents...

Tuesday, 7 July 2009 Leaving from The Gingerman
3740 N. Clark St. @8PM

Windy City Wool

2009-07-04T05:52:00.000-05:00

Winston's Tweed
hits the Big Time!

Ode to cigarettes

2009-07-03T06:29:00.001-05:00

Orwell’s obsession
with tobacco

Cigarette smoke so permeates George Orwell's stories it almost leaves stains on one’s fingers when reading his books.

So writes Josh Indar in Bumming Smokes in Paris and London. I was fascinated to read this last week in PopMatters' retrospective on the 60th anniversary of 1984. Anyone who's rolled with me knows that I'm a smoker ... an enthusiastic smoker! What started as the youthful urge to be cool has become a 2-pack a day habit. Having tried to quit cold-turkey several times, I certainly understand the power nicotine must've had over Orwell.

Skulking about smoke-free Eton College with a cigarette dangling provocatively from his lip gave Orwell that particular Bohemian air. Later, the ritual of rolling your own probably appealed to his machismo. Smoking also had its practical side. He writes in both Homage to Catalonia and Down and Out in Paris and London that appetite-suppressing nicotine helped him survive when food was scarce or too expensive.

I certainly can concur. My habit definitely took off when I was working in Bosnia-Herzegovina during the war. While UN food convoys were often blocked by the warlords, Drina cigarettes always seemed to get through. And now, being woefully under-employed, I find myself subsisting on Winston Ultra Lights. There's nothing like war and poverty for reinforcing your existential view of life.

Indar points out that cigarettes were most often associated with the working class characters in Orwell's books. This should come as no surprise since much of his work championed the commoners. And perhaps by identifying with their daily struggles, smoking helped him to camouflage his middle class origins.

This is especially apparent in Homage to Catalonia, Orwell's memoir of the Spanish Civil War. Tobacco is listed as one of the five basic necessities of soldiers in combat. The other four are firewood, food, candles and the enemy. Sharing them at the front also built trust and camaraderie. Describing street fighting in Barcelona, he gratefully acknowledges the small act of heroism performed by a fellow militiaman, who finds two packs of Lucky Strikes under terrible gunfire.

Hill climbing

2009-07-01T06:14:00.002-05:00

with
Mr. Punch Awheel!

The Squire:

But I tell you, sir,
this road is private, and you shall not pass except over my prostrate body!

The Biker:

All right, guv'nor, I'll go back.
I've done enough hill climbing already!

Hints for beginners

2009-06-30T05:25:00.002-05:00

from Punch

Most folks, today, forget that back of the turn of the 20th Century cages and bikes were BOTH considered the epitome of modern transportation. As each became equally ubiquitous on the highways and byways of Merry Ole' England, the venerable Punch magazine humorously observed their impact. Then in 1910, J. A. Hammerton compiled these observations in Mr. Punch Awheel: The Humours of Motoring and Cycling. What strikes me most are the similarities in the not-so subtle humor of this work and that of Yehuda Moon or Andy Singer. As the French would say, plus ça change, plus c'est la meme chose. Although it's unfortunate that the book is out of print, you can get a peek over at Project Gutenberg. Below is one brief example, Hints for Bike Beginners.

1. Insure your life and limbs. The former will benefit your relations, the latter yourself.

2. Learn on a hired machine. The best plan is to borrow a machine from a friend. It saves hiring. Should the tyre become punctured, the brake be broken, the bell cracked, the lamp missing, and the gear out of gear, you will return it as soon as possible, advising your friend to provide himself with a stronger one next time.

3. Practise on some soft and smooth ground. For example, on a lawn; the one next door for choice. A muddy road, although sufficiently soft, is not recommended—the drawbacks are obvious.

4. Choose a secluded place for practising. It may at first sight appear somewhat selfish to deprive your neighbours of a gratuitous performance which would be certain to amuse them. Nevertheless, be firm.

5. Get someone to hold you on. Engage a friend in an interesting conversation while you mount your bicycle. Do you remember Mr. Winkle's dialogue with Sam Weller when he attempted skating? You can model your conversation on this idea. Friend will support you while you ride and talk. Keep him at it. It will be excellent exercise for him, physically and morally. Also economical for you; as, otherwise, you would have to pay a runner.

6. Don't bike; trike.

When I was a child...

2009-06-29T05:53:00.000-05:00

I biked as a child

Last Saturday, Rob O'Flanagan, a columnist for Canada's GuelphMercury, wrote Why bike laws fail so abysmally. It poses the theory that they way we bike as kids is the way we bike as adults. Although I agree with his conclusion I think there's more than childhood nostalgia at work here. Biking, like caging in the US, is suffused with a passionate sense of freedom. Below is his piece with more of my reactions.

I have a theory on why it's so hard to enforce bicycle laws, and why it seems nearly impossible to change cycling habits. The theory may extend to all manner of things related to what we learn as children and find hard to unlearn as adults.

Certainly, the ultimate success of bikes as a popular form of alternative form of transportation will depend on getting folks on bikes when they're young.

Every now and then police officers make an effort to crack down on cyclists who pedal on sidewalks or break other bike laws. But there is a futility to the effort because of the embedded cultural reality of the bicycle in Canada.

I've always wondered if the often sporadic enforcement of bike offenses by Chicago's Finest is due mostly to the the large number of bikers compared to the relatively small number of officers. Also, as many of my bike buds like to say, "Don't they have more serious offenses to cite?"

It looks kind of silly for anyone other than a child to ride their bike on the sidewalk, or to fluidly flow from street to sidewalk as though they were one seamless two-wheel thoroughfare. But you see big people do it often. I'll admit I sometimes get the impulse to bodycheck sidewalk riders, but I resist the urge.

I totally agree, especially since in my neighborhood most pedestrians are older folks.

The reason this fluidity exists is because most of us learn to ride bikes when we are kids -- when the sidewalk, the park, the train tracks, the parking lot, the riverbank and all other accessible pathways were travelled at will. Biking was strictly a form of recreation, with very little utility attached, unlike in other cultures where the bike is an indispensable means of transportation, even a means of livelihood. That was the beauty of riding a bike as a kid -- your route was unlimited. A bike was a tool of the imagination more than an object of practicality. That was the beauty of riding a bike as a kid -- your route was unlimited. A bike was a tool of the imagination more than an object of practicality.

This childhood nostalgia is certainly reinforced by the Bikes Are Toys marketing major US manufacturers introduced after WWII. Besides, anyone who's regularly participated in a Critical Mass, or observed one, would've noticed the widespread attitude that you can bike anywhere anytime.

I grew up on a farm, so most of my biking was restricted to dirt roads and fields. But taking my banana bike to town was a massive adventure because so much more territory could be covered on two wheels than two feet, and the energy and excitement of that exploration had a way of expanding the scope of possible routes and destinations. My gang of friends and I biked everywhere -- graveyard, schoolyard, gravel pit, hospital grounds and playgrounds -- up onto sidewalks, blasting across streets, riding on the wrong side of the road, bobbing and weaving through traffic. All at the highest possible speeds our legs could take us.

I too grew up in mostly rural areas where traffic was at a minimum. In fact, I didn't own a helmet until I move here to The Windy City over a decade ago when I was in my mid-40s.

A bike wasn't a bike after all. It was a motorcycle, a racing car or a spacecraft. The rider was Evel Knievel, popping wheelies, jumping gorges. Or Mario Andretti competing in the Indianapolis 500. Or a space traveller hovering over the surface of the moon. Then the controlling hands of civil society reached in to reshape the imagination and impose order. All those biking habits we learned as kids were to be abandoned. Riding on the sidewalk was branded a perilous thing, injurious, even life-threatening. And, most importantly, it is disorderly and therefore must be stopped.

Now, young and older adult bikers are divided into playful sub-cultures: freakbikers, tweedriders, full moon cruisers, midnight marauders, etc. This, I think, is a serious response to our dominant WASPY culture that scolds adults with I Corinthians, Chapter III, Verse 11: When I was a child I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man I put away childish things.

If we actually rode bikes for utility -- as a carrier of market vegetables or hauler of scrap metal, as they do in a nation like China -- we might take the laws of the road more seriously. We might see the bike as more than a plaything. But a bike is largely a tool of fun, and it just isn't much fun sticking to bike lanes, hugging the curb hoping a car doesn't side-swipe you. The child inside wants unconstrained riding, wants to find his or her own path.

Having biked in Beijing several years back, I would say that utility, though a big one, isn't the one reason why the Chinese take bike laws more seriously. The number of bikers there probably dwarfs that of all the Western countries combined. If our our free-wheelin' style were to be adopted it would surely lead to chaos. Besides, bikers are more prone to follow the law because way more cops ride bikes there than in the US and being representatives of an authoritarian, one-party state, they definitely get more respect.

If you can do the Bart

2009-06-27T05:33:00.000-05:00

you're bad like
Michael Jackson

RIP

Live a little...

2009-06-26T05:52:00.000-05:00

bike a lot

Google streeview rocks

2009-06-25T05:52:00.001-05:00

...and rolls!

One of the amazing things we saw on our inaugural Winston's Tweed Ride was the Google Car. I wish I had noted the location. Then I could see if we made it on Google Streetview. Be that as it may, I was fascinating to read that they've been experimenting with a human-powered alternative. This Google Bike prowls pedestrian-only areas, mostly on university campuses, as well as public parks, theme parks, and hiking/biking trails. The 250-pound vehicle, which resembles the pedicabs that carry tourists around The City of Big Shoulders and other cities.

The would-be mapmaker pumps the pedals up front, with the camera mounted on a tower in the back. On the rear is a red generator along with a large white chest that looks like it might dispense ice cream but actually contains the computer recording the digital images. Riding for Google maps must a pretty sweet job. Though you do have to pedal heavy photography equipment around.

The strangling of Iran...

2009-06-24T06:16:00.018-05:00

empowered women
in an historical perspective

To anyone who thinks that the local and widespread demonstrations against the recent Iranian presidential elections are starting to fail, I have one word: WOMEN! Certainly, much has been made of Twitter, YouTube, Facebook, and a host of other web-based, social networking tools being used by the Iranian protesters. It reminds me of the students in Tienanmen Square who, 20 years ago, communicated by fax with the rest of the world and the young Bosnians who did the same thing in the early 90s using email and web-pages. But tools they only are. It's who wields them that really matters. As Anne Applebaum wrote yesterday in The Washington Post,

Not Obama, not Bush and not Twitter ... but years of work and effort lie behind the public display of defiance and, in particular, the number of women on the streets -- and their presence matters. Their presence could strike the deepest blow against the regime ... Its leadership is legitimate, as is its harsh repression of women, because God has decreed that it is so. The outright rejection of this creed by tens of thousands of women, not just over the past weekend but over the past decade, has to weaken the Islamic Republic's claim to invincibility, in Iran and across the Middle East.

I can't agree more. To understand this, you should be reading W. Morgan Shuster's The Strangling of Persia. Published in 1912, it recounts his 8 month assignment as the Treasurer-General of the Persian Empire. He and a small group of American treasury experts had been invited by the new constitutional government in 1910 to strengthen the country's finances. It was hoped this would help resist the 1907 Anglo-Russian Entent that effectively divided Persia into two spheres of influence. Needless to say, neither Great Power was happy with Shuster's work. They supported a royalist insurgency against the popular constitutional government that successfully brought it down in 1911. Several months later, Shuster resigned and left Persia. After his return to the US, he wrote his damning indictment of Russian and British meddling in Persia affairs, stating:

[I]t was obvious that the people of Persia deserve much better than what they are getting, that they wanted us to succeed, but it was the British and the Russians who were determined not to let us succeed.

If you've ever wondered why Iranians are particularly paranoid about the Great Power influence over them, this book will give you great insights. What is especially tragic is that at the beginning of the 2oth Century Iranians strongly supported their constitutional democracy and fervently hoped the US would protect it against Russian and British encroachment. What is most surprising, though, is that Shuster's book includes a small section (pp. 191-199) on the significant role played by Iranian women during and after the 1905-11 Constitutional Revolution. Except for its antique language (as well as attitudes) and the different personalities, it could easily describe the political role Iranian women are playing today.

The Persian women since 1907 had become at a bound the most progressive, not to say radical, in the world. That this statement upsets the ideas of centuries makes no difference. It is the fact.

You can read this section as well as the rest of The Strangling of Persian over at Google Books. I highly recommend that you do so!

For what is liberty
but the unhampered translation of will into act?

Cyril Connolly

Summer babes & elegant bachelors

2009-06-23T05:08:00.002-05:00

there's a ride
for you!

John Greenfield, of Vote With Your Feet fame, will be hosting a Tweed-inspired ride this Saturday. It'll be a stylish bicycle tour of Chicago's retro cocktail patios to a soundtrack of classic jazz played on our rolling sound system. For the gents necktie and/or sports jacket are required. And beautiful city bikes and vintage cruisers are recommended. All are welcome; no registration fee!

The Itinerary:

1. Wicker Park Fountain, 1425 N. Damen. Depart around 6:15 pm.
2. Motel Bar, 600 W. Chicago. Dinner? Depart around 7:45 pm.
3. Nomi, 800 N. Michigan, on the 7th floor of Park Hyatt. Depart around 8:45 pm.
4. Uncommon Ground, 3800 N. Clark. Depart around 10:00 pm.
5. BYOB cocktail party near Albany and Kedzie. We’ll stop to pick up libations on the way. If you’d rather call it a night, from Uncommon Ground head south on Southport, west on Diversey and south on Damen back to Wicker Park