Dutch Bike: Impressions After an Absence

I own a 15 year old Gazelle A-Touren that is pretty much the prototypical Dutch bike. It was my main city bike for a while, until I put it in storage last November. Yesterday I retrieved the Gazelle (I am looking to sell it edited to add: I have now sold this bicycle), dusted it off, and rode it for the first time in 4 months. The nice thing about riding a very distinct type of bicycle after a long absence, is that everything about it seems new again and you notice aspects of the ride quality that didn't stand out when the bike was familiar. So I wanted to take this opportunity to write up my impressions of Dutch bike handling - from the altered perspective of someone who's now also ridden a variety of other bicycles. 

My first impression of the Gazelle upon our reunion had to do with the riding position. I forgot that it was even possible to be sitting that upright on a bicycle! I consider my other 3-speed and my mixte to be upright bikes as well, but they are certainly not compared to the Gazelle. The rider's position on this bike is akin to sitting in a chair: back straight, shoulders relaxed, hands holding the bars in much the same manner as one would hold an open newspaper or a tray. 

The handlebars are dramatically swept back and very close to the body. There is no feeling of reaching at all - my hands just basically rest on the bars naturally if I simply plop them down, bent at the elbows. This also means that there is very little weight being placed on the handlebars, or on the front end of the bike at all for that matter.

The unweighted front end was a sensation that took getting used to after an absence. However, it was really just a matter of training my body to adjust to it. After circling the block a few times and picking up speed, the handling already began to feel intuitive again. With the handlebars way behind the font hub, this is not a super-responsive bicycle. There is almost a feeling of passivity or detachment in riding it, like being in the back seat of a vehicle instead of the driver's seat. 

These factors combined are what's responsible for the "regal" feeling associated with riding a Dutch bike. The effortlessness, the perfect posture, the ability to observe one's surroundings in a way that cannot be done on other bikes - it all encourages a relaxed and confident attitude. The wide 28" tires create a plush ride quality that further contributes to the luxurious feel. The nuisance of potholes and rough road surfaces need not trouble the rider. As I rode the Gazelle around the neighborhood, it felt as if I were sailing aboard a luxury liner more than riding a bike. I had completely forgotten that sensation. 

Of course another thing I'd forgotten was the weight of the bike. At just under 50lb, the Gazelle is an armful to drag up and down even a small set of stairs on a regular basis. Having now gotten used to my "heavy" city bikes being a good 15-20lb lighter, I admit I did not welcome the extra weight.

The bike's weight however, does not pose a problem when the Gazelle is in motion. It accelerates easily and retains momentum extremely well. On flats I can fairly quickly get it to 17mph+ in the high gear, which is about as fast as I'd want to go in the city anyhow. 

Uphill is of course a different story, though it's not quite as bad as you might think just by looking at the bike. Uphill the Gazelle is slow, but responsive to hard pedaling effort. Unlike some other heavy city bikes, it does not attempt to pull me back, but is willing to advance slowly forward and upward as long as I am willing to push. 

Having had the bike out of sight for so long, it was also nice to see its lovely little details again. Being of mid-90s production, the bike is not exactly "vintage," but still the details were more nuanced on these older models than they are today. Examining all the intricate, albeit now rusty, little embellishments on it is a pleasure. The bike was well used before I got my hands on it, and spent a great portion of its life outdoors as I understand it. In light of that history, the extent to which its functionality and aesthetics have been preserved is impressive. 

While I love and respect the Gazelle, for my current transportation needs I've come to prefer a more active ride and a slightly more aggressive posture. Still, the positive qualities of this bicycle are hard to beat. 

The Dutch bike is an excellent choice for a cyclist who wants to be as upright and relaxed as possible, enjoys a plush ride, prefers to do little to no maintenance on their bicycle even in winter, lives in a fairly flat environment, and is undaunted by weight. It will also appeal to those who love vintage elegance: The basic design of the Dutch bike has gone largely unchanged over the past century and remains an icon of transportation cycling.

Categories: bicycle reviews, Gazelle

Bleak Prognosis for the Dutch Bicycle?

While I can't say I did not see it coming, it was nonetheless a surprise to spot one of the latest offerings from Trek at Interbike.

Meet the Trek Cocoa: a "Dutch-inspired" 3-speed. Loop frame, chaincase, dressguards, vintage-style graphics and even - believe it or not, some lugwork (despite the allegedly aluminum frame?).

Here is an Interbike anecdote for you: Upon seeing Trek's Dutch bike, I naturally wanted to examine it carefully: to feel the weight, to move it to a location that would make it easier to photograph, maybe even to test ride it. But the bike was locked up to a display stand, so I asked a representative in the booth about it. He looked confused, as if I'd brought him some weird bike he'd never seen before and wants nothing to do with. "I don't really know anything about this," he said, "but let me see if I can get someone who does." I waited, but no one came, and so I ended up photographing it as it was, then moving on. It made me imagine that perhaps there were these warring fractions at Trek, with one adamant on designing European-inspired city bikes and the other disgusted by the idea and insisting that all resources be focused on Madones. Who knows what goes on behind the scenes over there, but the bottom line is that a Trek Dutch bike now exists.

If you are waiting for me to tear this bicycle apart, I will have to disappoint you. While I have not test-ridden it, visually and structurally it is not bad. The frame is partially lugged and the welded bits are not as horrendous as on other bikes I've seen. Though the frame size is smaller than typical for a Dutch bike  and the wheels are 26", the proportions - from the thickness of the tubing to the curve of the looped top tube - come across as convincing. The graphics are attractive. There is no lighting, but perhaps they will add that as an option once the bike goes into production.

While the Cocoa is not an authentic classic Dutch bicycle as far as geometry goes, it is much nicer than I what I'd expected Trek to produce in this genre - especially after their take on the French mixte. I look forward to a test ride in 2012.

At this point you may be wondering about the bleak title of this post. Well, in order to explain it, I ask you first to have a good look at the above photo. Then turn your attention to the photo below:

Do you see much of a difference? Because you are now looking at the latest model from the Dutch bike manufacturer Gazelle - namely, at a rather crudely welded unicrown fork. Seeing this at Interbike, it made complete sense as the finishing touch after a number of other changes Gazelle has undergone over the past few years, such as switching to welded chainstays and loop connector. Given that Batavus underwent the same changes a few years earlier, it seems that what used to be known as the two major Dutch bicycle manufacturers are essentially no longer differentiated from bikes mass-produced in Chinese factories by the likes of Trek and Republic - which is not surprising, because as of several years ago they are being produced in the same Chinese factories. While I am sure the geometry is different - at least for now - I see less and less of a distinction in construction and quality between the big name Dutch bikes and their imitators.

All this is to say, that the idea of the Dutch bike as it was first introduced to the North American market - as a timeless design, lovingly hand-made by specialists who'd been producing it in the exact same way for generations - is quickly becoming a marketing myth. The only manufacturer I can think of who still makes Dutch bikes entirely in that manner is Achielle, and they are based in Belgium. Correct me if I am wrong, reassure me, give me examples - I am open to it. But having seen the latest offerings at Interbike, I can hardly feel optimistic. If the likes of the Trek Cocoa ride decently, I don't really see a reason why an American consumer would want the more expensive Gazelle - the difference in quality is rapidly disappearing.

Categories: bicycle industry, Gazelle, Interbike

All About the Looks

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

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

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

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

Categories: Gazelle, loop frame

The Morning After: Post-Sport Transport

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Categories: Gazelle, paceline, roadcycling, traffic, transportation options

Soggy and Squeaky

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

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

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

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

Categories: Gazelle, loop frame, rain

Keeping Your Bike Outdoors

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

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

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

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

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

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

Categories: Gazelle, locking up, urban cycling

Simple Solution for Unforeseen Groceries

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

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

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

Categories: bags, DIY, food, Gazelle